


Far From Home: The Warlord’s Chosen

by HeRell_77



Series: Far From Home [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action & Romance, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Bath Sex, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Complete, Cultural Differences, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubcon Piercing, Enemies to Lovers, Facials, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Crossdressing, Genital Piercing, Honeymoon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Marathon Sex, Massage, Mates, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piercings, Prostate Massage, Simultaneous Orgasm, Slavery, Sort Of, Submission, barbarian, in the past not current, kind of, of a minor character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2019-09-01 16:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 47,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeRell_77/pseuds/HeRell_77
Summary: *****COMPLETE*****"Some men are born warriors. Some are born with other destinies," I whispered in answer."Like to warm the warriors' beds?"When the translator repeated the words the warlord leered down at me, I couldn't help the blush I knew rose to my cheeks."If all you know is sex and battle, what a poor life you have lived," I hissed. I immediately cursed my fool tongue.I could tell the translator didn't want to repeat my rebellious words, but with a flick of the warlord's fingers to urge him on, he had no choice.The warlord's bellowing laugh and taunting reply echoed around the throne room, although the translator couldn't even repeat them before the warlord began again, this time in broken El'kahrian- my own language."I choose Amer Groban, son of Jon Groban the third, as my War Prize," the warlord growled out loud enough for the entire courtyard to hear.He met my eyes, his own shining with laughter. His whispered words, meant only for me, were translated by a near-silent, confused translator. "You are no coward, little mate. Your fire is as deep as your heart. I will enjoy making that fire mine."





	1. Gods Help Us

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy Amer and Geir’s story! Please like/comment :)
> 
> P.S. this is MM (gay) romance with explicit sex scenes, not pwp.

AMER—

The Warlord of Akar, the Demon of Akar, Blood Barbarian. He was known by many names, all of them terrifying.

And he was coming. He had made his way through the Pass of G'atar two days ago, leaving behind the majority of his troops. He didn't need them anymore. We were sufficiently cowed by his brutality, his blood lust, and his complete disregard for human life or mercy.

He had ravaged our small kingdom of El'kahr like he had a personal vendetta of blood against each man he cut down, tore to pieces. The stories abounded about him scalping men and tying the scalps to his horses' saddles to proclaim his battle status to the world. To bring fear to the men he left alive on the battlefield. If they were unlucky enough to survive. Of him bathing in their blood and gouging out the eyes of the dead for some necromantic ritual no one could truly explain without breaking out into cold sweats.

He was our boogeyman.

And we had brought him on ourselves.

More than a year ago, my father, King Groban III of El'kahr, sent out small parties of slavers and mercenaries into the borderlands just inside of Akar. Against the advice of over half his advisors. Akar may be a land of many tribes led by tribal chiefs, rather than one large country led by a king, but weak and divided they were not.

However, my father, blinded by his pride and greed, went against the warnings of many. He sent mercenaries to rape and pillage and burn. And he drew the wrath of the chiefs of Akar.

In retaliation, they sent their demon and his army to avenge their people. To protect what was theirs. And to prove to the world that weak would never be a word associated with the barbarian tribes.

For the actions of my father, one man, so, so many have suffered.

And now the suffering would fall back where it belongs: on my family. As part of the surrender, my father has agreed to give one of his children as a War Prize to the Warlord Geir, the Demon of Akar.

One of my poor sisters will be subjected to slavery for the Demon of Akar's lusts. I mourn for them, but they are so brave. They hold their heads high, Hestiel with her cold blue eyes flashing with fury, the only emotion even I can see her show as she glares down our father with her usual apathetic expression of disdain. Ameliel, her sweet mouth pursed with fear, her golden eyes wrinkled with her terror. But she tries desperately to hide that fear. She tries so hard. But she is only 13 winters yet, and I fear for her. She is just a girl, in more than her years. She spends the majority of her time watching the stars, counting raindrops, and laughing at daffodils and butterflies.

I fear my and Hestiel's reaction if the Warlord chooses our dear younger sister.

But she is the most likely choice. Although Hestiel is a beauty beyond compare, her countenance spoken of in whispers as the daughter of gods, she refuses to submit to man's dominion and has a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. At almost twenty-two, she is many years older than marriageable age. Not that she pays any mind. She is happy enough commanding the castle's servants and looking after the kingdom's accounts and books.

All who know my family and the real goings-on in the kingdom know Hestiel was more king than my father had ever been. And she was a better one.

"If only she had been born a man," I had heard more times than I could count from my father's advisors.

But sadly they were stuck with me. A boy who looked more like my mother than my father, barely 8 inches above 5 feet, with a slim build bordering on too skinny that I tried so hard to build up but never could. A boy who would rather spend his days in a library learning how to irrigate corn properly, or which herbs make the best healing poultices. For as long as I could remember, I had followed the palace healer and the various librarians and scholars, as close as I could so I could hear any drops of wisdom they would allow to me. I soaked up knowledge like a thirsty oak in a drought.

I was no warrior like the advisors would have wanted from an heir. My father hadn't even allowed me to join the recent battles. Although, I had been... glad of that.

Protect my people? Yes, I would die for them.

Fight in a war my people had started against neighbors who had only wanted to be left alone? ... No. I don't think I would have lasted long, even if I was some sort of fighter.

But I kept my traitorous thoughts to myself, and stayed behind with the men who were too young or too old to join the war.

And now we had surrendered with our tails between our legs, and the sacrifice my father would be forced to give was no sacrifice to him. He had two daughters, more than enough. He could spare one.

How I hated him.

"Did you hear me, boy?" My father's voice broke through my musings and I looked up, staring stupidly around at my sisters, my father, and a few of his favorite advisors— the same two that had been his loudest supporters for our encroachment onto Akaran lands.

Reignner was a bullish brute with small eyes and a firm mouth. It was well known he had 4 wives in his lifetime-- all dying in childbirth or very near thereafter. His losses had hardened him, and his lack of an heir frustrated him and drove him to seek a fifth wife.

He had been eyeing Hestiel for months. And her disdain at the prospect had been a thorn in my father's side against his advisors complaints. If she wasn't chosen by the Warlord, it was only a matter of time before she was the fifth wife of Lord Reignerr Ketterling.

Butcger Wolfe was a former general who had never been married and kept secret the fact that he had a penchant for taking in young orphans and keeping them as bed maids.

Very, very young orphans.

"I apologize, father," I whispered meekly, trying to keep the disgust out of my voice before the three men who I loathed most in the world.

That is, until I first heard of the Demon of Akar. 

Deserved or not, bis brutality and lack of mercy had no equal.

"The servants and rabble tend to listen to you more readily than they do the whip. Stay with them tonight, keep them calm, and make sure the banquet runs smoothly. Your sisters will be gone by tomorrow, so the moment we know which this demon will take, you are to have her things gathered together for her departure."

"Yes, father," I replied, biting back the retort that came so readily to my tongue.

 _Of course they like me,_ I wanted to say. _I ensure they are given enough to eat, are paid enough for their services, are cared for in illness._

_They are humans. Your people! They are not rabble!_

Hestiel and I had all but taken the running of the castle onto ourselves. And as long as my father was kept unaware of this, there was much we could do to alleviate the suffering of a people under the thumb of a selfish tyrant.

"Hestiel, you and Ameliel will be ready tonight in your finest dresses. He will be here any moment, and I expect you to be there with me to greet—"

"He's here! They're here!" A great call rose up from outside, along with the ominous sound of the gates creaking open.

"Come," my father said simply. My sisters turned to me, Hestiel's gaze going colder by the second to hide her fear, and Ameliel's eyes so wide I feared injury to them.

"Strength, sisters," I said softy, pitching my voice low so my father couldn't hear me as he led his two advisors out the great doors of the throne room where he had gathered us for his speech on familial loyalty and responsibility to our blood and people.

"Maman is watching over you. She will implore the gods on your behalf. Be strong."

Hestiel nodded, her eyes hooded and her strong shoulders bearing the burden for the quivering girl at her side. She took Ameliel's hand and smiled down at her. That gentle, warm smile of Hestiel's was reserved only for Ameliel. And on very rare occasion, me.

"Come, little sister," she said gently, wiping the few tears Ameliel had allowed spill past the barrier of her lashes. "Our brother is right. We must bear this burden, for our people, for peace. Come, let us show this Warlord of Akar that the daughters of Ariel of Denvire will not be cowed. We will hold our heads high, no tears, and we will make our maman proud."

Ameliel, my dear Mem, could only nod, sniffle, and try futilely to straighten her shoulders and back. With only last glance at me, Hestiel led Mem out by the hand.

My sisters. One of my dear, beloved kin, would be a bed slave to a man whose name wasn't even known except by title. And a man who was so feared for his dabblings in necrophilic black magic, many crossed themselves and their fingers as a ward against evil at even his mention.

I shuddered and made my way to the window, looking out at the contingent of over 100 men riding just west of the castle.

He was down there. Somewhere. This evil man— was he even a man?— who would force my sisters into slavery only to show my father, and the rest of the kingdom, that we were now his. We were all now slaves to the will of Akar.

Gods help us.


	2. The Loyalty of Servants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warlord Geir recognizes Amer on sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m seriously terrible at summaries, can you tell? 
> 
> Please like/comment :):)

GEIR—

The beauty of the children of King Groban of El'kahr was spoken of as often as the greed and cruelty of that self-same king. We had all heard the stories, of his eldest daughter's harsh, almost cold beauty. Her hair black as the moonless night, her skin golden as the Goddess Ki, as if she had been born in the image of that great goddess. Of the second daughter's stunning hair, the color of sun-flecked wheat grown in the fields of the gods, and her laughter like an angelic choir.

And of his son's beauty that rivaled that of both of his sisters, his gentle nature, and his genius that may have turned the tide of our war on them. If he had stepped even one spoiled foot out of the turrets of his father's palace. But to our luck, and El'kahr's detriment, he had stayed hidden and safe, a cowardly move, and we had prevailed almost too easily.

Blessed by the gods, the siblings were said to be.

It was too bad their father couldn't keep his hands to himself.

He had greedily stretched his claws into the lands of my ancestors, envious of our riches he claimed we deserved not. And the Council of Akar, the 8 tribal chiefs of my home land, had sent me, their avenging devil, to bring hell down on the king of greed. To end his lust for our lands, our riches, our people— whom he called slaves.

The chiefs had chosen me for my experience in war and bloodshed. For at forty summers I was one of the remaining survivors of the Wendrent War, that had almost decimated our tribes. But we had held strong, and that war had shot me up in ranks until I was now Chief Warlord of Akar.

And bring an end to King Groban's greed I had. In a campaign of slaughter that had lasted only 14 months, I had pillaged and destroyed my way through El’kahr until I received a message of surrender, and an invitation to peace talks with Groban.

How I was looking forward to him groveling at my feet. One of my old comrades from back when I was still only a warrior in training had been in one of the villages hit during one of Groban's sanctioned attacks. His body had been found surrounded by dozens of dead El'kahrians. He had died in honor, a warrior's death.

I mourned him greatly.

We could hear the shout go up as we reached the gates of Veil Castle, the capital of El'kahr, and they were opened with brisk efficiency.

We were soon surrounded by the hardened, cold eyes of the occupants of the king's castle.

I motioned for Briggs, my first commander and closest friend, to keep an eye out. It wouldn't do for us to get this far only to fall to a poorly thought-out trap.

Even if we fell, there were thousands of my men that would descend on this brick and stone monstrosity before the sun fully set against the mountain that backed the castle. 

But the crowd never made a noise, never tried for violence. They only watched us with disgust and barely concealed loathing. I knew the stories that had flown before us. Of my defiling the bodies of the dead. Commanding armies of the undead. Eating the corpses that littered the battlefields, and drinking the blood down like water.

Nonsense, of course. But I never truly denied the stories, and sometimes even purposely perpetuated them.

How many times had we managed to bring a city or town to its knees only by the rumors and horror stories that had travelled before us? We preserved more lives with those silly rumors than I could hardly count.

When we reached the castle courtyard, I dismounted. I surveyed the courtyard around me, noting the two women— one barely a girl— standing beside what I knew to be the King of El'kahr. There were also at least 10 older men beside the king and behind him, as if backing up his decision to enslave my people.

In the periphery of the courtyard, there were dozens of servants and nobles standing by to see their king prostate himself before me.

One of the servants, a young man with bright golden hair, stood out from the rest. It wasn't that he was tall and stood above those around him, for he was actually quite short, but he had a sort of glow that emanated seemingly directly from his skin. And I guessed at who he truly was. However, for now, I looked away from him and towards the king.

I could almost feel the young man's gaze burning on the back of my neck as I turned towards the king, sneering down at him. _This is him_ , I thought. _This is the man who brought so much suffering to not only my people, but his own._

I studied the two women who stood beside the king. These were the tributes, the king's daughters, who would pay the price for his greed and stupidity. 

Or so they thought.

The elder sister was tall— almost 6 feet at my reckoning— with skin the color of the sun, and hair of the darkest night. Her blue eyes shone with a sort of inner justice, a hatred, an almost vindictive fury. She clutched at her younger sister's hand as if at a lifeline. The rest of her face, her body, everything about her was cold, stoic. Except those eyes. Those eyes judged me, condemned me, hated me. And that heat, from a woman with that inner strength, was something even the strongest of men may not be able to handle.

The younger sister, barely out of childhood, was terrified. I almost wished I could reassure her, help her understand that the stories that she had heard of me, all of the horror stories that were told about me. Only a few of them were true.

The king stared at me with a hatred so profound, so mired in greed, I couldn't help the sneer that rose to my face. This man, this tyrant, had brought down this punishment on his own head.

The advisers and servants that surrounded us kept their silence as Briggs and I moved forward, leaving the rest of my men mounted in case of trouble. I stepped slowly to the king, watching in satisfaction as he slowly, oh-so-reluctantly, lowered himself to his knees. The women at his sides followed suit, and before long the entire courtyard was on its knees.

"Lower," I growled down at Groban, smiling darkly when his body stiffened. But he obeyed, lowering his body until his forehead touched the earth. “Good boy.”

I glanced around, noticing the young man again, who was on his knees, but who openly glared at me. He was surrounded by what looked like the kitchen servants, and my snort of amusement was met with a few surprised glances from the chefs and kitchen maids. 

One man, built like a chariot, yanked on the young man’s arm when he noticed his glare. He whispered something I couldn’t hear, but the young man’s expression barely flickered. 

When my eyes met his, I could see just a tinge of surprise, but there was no fear. 

Not what I was expecting from the prince I had thought a coward for months. He hadn’t led his men into battle, preferring to stay back in his castle, hiding behind the stone and brick mortar like his cowardly father. I had expected a weakling. A man-child. I had wanted to punish him as much as his father.

But that fire in his eyes? That sense of danger, almost feral fury? 

That I wanted to taste. That, I wanted to bring to heel.

I motioned to the man, gesturing him to come forward. His fire dimmed just for a moment as he took a step back, the tiniest hint of fear intruding. With his hesitation, I signaled for two of my men to bring him to me. When they dismounted and headed towards him, chaos broke loose among the kitchen servants. 

The chariot-man— probably the head chef, from the way the others acted around him and looked to him— took a few steps forward, all but shoving the young man behind him. Two other men, along with three kitchen maids, moved forward to stand beside the head chef, as if to protect the young man from the two men I had sent to bring him to me. 

Before I could call the men back, to prevent bloodshed, the young man called out in their lilting, chirping language. He grabbed the head chef’s arm, yanking him back and placing himself between my men and the group that had risen to defend him without hesitation. Looking around, I noticed it wasn’t only the kitchen servants that were riled. The entire courtyard was now bristling, static cackling in the air thick enough to cut. 

Every servant in the courtyard, from the stable boys to the butlers and chambermaids, stood now with clenched fists, unconsciously leaning forward, prepared to jump to that young man’s defense.

The same servants that had looked on passively as their king was forced to prostrate himself completely to me, now looked ready to call an end to the peace treaty to protect the young man who was again glaring me down as he pulled away from the head chef. He said a few more words I couldn’t make out even if I spoke their language, and then he was moving towards me. 

“Careful,” I called to the two men he reached, who grabbed at his arms to pull him to me. “Don’t hurt him, or we may have another war on our hands.”

Briggs chuckled from beside me, but he nodded in the young man’s direction when I met his gaze. He had seen what I had. 

These servants would die for the man.

And my interest was peaked even further. 

What kind of man, who looked as if he couldn’t kill a man even in defense of his own life, his clothes no better than the servants he had stood and bowed beside, garnered that kind of loyalty? 

The man’s face twisted and he muttered a few strings of sentences, his eyes behind me, making me glance back. The king was still on his knees, but the two women at his back had risen and had the same stance as the rest of the courtyard.

“Good gods,” Briggs muttered as I waved for my translator to dismount and come forward. “They would all fight 100 heavily armed men with kitchen knives and pitchforks if that boy said one word.”

I nodded silently as my men came to a stop at the foot of the stairs I stood atop. The young man— barely out of childhood, it seemed, now that I could see him better— tried to shrug out of my men’s grip. They held steady, but at my nod, they let him go and he jerked forward.

His glare was piercing, now that he was closer. Piercing, fierce, and fucking delicious. I wanted to lick those pursed lips, bite that neck that strained as he held himself perfectly straight, stiff, and rigid.


	3. The Claiming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlord Geir chooses his War Prize.

AMER—

Another man came forward, although this one looked more like someone who spent as much time as I did with his nose in scrolls. He even had the same ink marks on his fingers and hands. He was dressed in thick leathers, but not armor like the rest of the 

“I am the translator for the Chief Warlord of Akar,” the man said in thinly accented El’kahrian as he neared me. He made a strange salute to the warlord— his two forefingers touching his forehead and then sweeping out, before turning to me and making the same gesture. “I am called Ravi. May I ask your name, so I may tell the warlord to whom he addresses?”

“He knows who I am,” I all but growled, refusing to look away from the warlord to even glance at the translator.

How the hell had he known who I was, at first glance? I had known he had recognized me— I had seen it in his eyes as his gaze swept over me, lingering just a bit longer than on the others around me before moving on.

But I could never have foreseen what would happen. 

Chef Dew all but attacking the men the warlord had sent to bring me to him. Lillian, Charlie, Pix, Darth, and Mather moved forward, as if to back Dew up, but I held them back. 

“Your deaths, your blood, will not be on my hands. Stand back! None of you will die this day. Not for my pride, not for yours. Do you understand?” I had yelled at them, before following the men the warlord had sent to retrieve me. 

The translator flinched when he reiterated my words denying giving my name freely to the warlord, drawing a guffawing laugh from the huge man. Upon closer inspection, the man was even larger than he had looked from afar. He was at least 7 feet tall, his mud-colored hair shorn closely to his head, his face care-worn and heavily tanned, and his body at least twice my width. I felt like a child before him, my head barely coming up to his chest. I couldn’t even wrap my arms around him if I tried— they would likely only reach across his back. 

“Yes, he knows who you are,” the translator answered when the warlord had finally stopped laughing and had answered with a leering smirk. “You’re the coward son of the gluttonous king, who hid behind his father’s brick and mortar instead of standing beside your people to fight for their lives. How many were sacrificed in your name?”

I could feel myself flinch, but I forced myself to keep my head high, never looking away from those deep, golden brown eyes. The warlord watched me with a fascinated, almost hungry glare, and I felt a shiver run up my spine.

What did he have planned, dragging me forward like this? 

Would I be used as an example for my people? To cow them into obedience to their new overlords?

If so, I only hoped they didn’t do it now. Because from the agitated way the servants of the castle had reacted to my being grabbed, they wouldn’t be cowed even by my blood being spilt— no, that would only agitate them to press forward. 

And then they would all be slaughtered. 

I couldn’t allow that to happen. 

“Some men are born warriors. Some are born with other destinies,” I whispered in answer, trying to keep my voice placating. I had already shown enough defiance to rile my people. I needed to calm myself, and try to make the warlord see reason. 

“Like to warm the warriors’ beds?”

When the translator repeated the words the warlord leered down at me, I couldn’t help the blush I knew rose to my cheeks.

“If all you know is sex and battle, what a poor life you have lived,” I hissed. I immediately cursed my fool tongue, knowing I had just done the opposite of what I had intended, but I couldn’t hold back the words. Not for this monster who had desecrated my home and now sought to mock and humiliate me. 

I could tell the translator didn’t want to repeat my rebellious words, but with a flick of the warlord’s fingers to urge him on, he had no choice. 

The warlord’s bellowing laugh and taunting reply echoed around the throne room, although the translator couldn’t even repeat them before the warlord began again, this time in broken 

“I choose Amer Groban, son of Jon Groban the third, as my War Prize,” the warlord growled out loud enough for the entire courtyard to hear. He met my eyes, his own shining with laughter. His next words were whispered in Akari, meant only for me, translated by a near-silent, confused translator. “You are no coward, little mate. Your fire is as deep as your heart. I will enjoy making that fire mine.”

It took only a few seconds for chaos to reign free. The moment the warlord’s words processed— declaring me his War Prize, his sex slave, rather than one of my sisters— Dew was bellowing out a fierce-sounding war cry, and the chefs, dishwashers, stable boys and kitchen maids rallied around him. They murmured and pushed forward, and I knew I had only seconds before blood was spilled. 

I whistled loud enough so the entire courtyard’s attention was fixed on me while I ran up the few steps until I was standing just below the warlord. I dropped to my knees and held my arms crossed at my chest— a show of respect and obeisance for slaves.

When I spoke, I felt just a slight bit of pride that my voice wavered not a bit. 

“I am Amer, son of King Groban of El’kahr and Queen Ariel of Denvire. I submit myself willingly as War Prize to the Warlord of Akar.”

The sounds of my sisters gasps, Dew’s growl of frustration, and the gentle murmuring of dissent around me was drowned out by the translator’s shocked-sounding translation of my words to the warlord. I refused to look up, even when everything went quiet. I had to remain submissive. I had to show my people that I was compliant, or they would be killed. 

I couldn’t let that happen. I would submit myself to the worst sorts of torture first.

Which, I realized, I probably just had.

Rough, calloused fingers dug into my chin and dragged my gaze up to eyes that seemed to glow with a sort of pride, and a desire, a hunger, I had never seen before. I choked, my breath catching as I was gently lifted to my feet and turned so my back was to the warlord’s. He pulled me up against his hard body, his left arm wrapping around my chest to hold me tightly to him, and his right hand gently cupping my neck. I held perfectly still, as pliant in his arms as I could be with my heart racing and my chest heaving with terrified breaths. 

The warlord’s bellowed words in Akari as he held me to him in what felt a very symbolic pose, caused a great roar of sound to pour forth from the Akaran troupes. Their whoops, hollers, and cheers deafened me, even as I could hear Mem begin to cry a few feet behind me, shushed quietly by an impatient Hestiel. 

I could almost feel her anger wafting over me, directed at the man who still held me prone in his arms. His body was warm, his breaths hot on my neck as he bent down and whispered something intimate-sounding in my ear. I couldn't understand, of course— I knew enough Akari to get through introductions and niceties, a few common phrases, and the rules of their grammar, but that was the extent. My entire body erupted in gooseflesh as his hand, that had been gripping my hip, moved lower and settled to cup my manhood, but I refused to flinch. He whispered something when I didn’t react outwardly, and I could almost feel the praise washing over me from the words.

My eyes flickered around the courtyard, my humiliation complete when I saw a few of my closest friends’ faces set with expressions of horror and disgust. Dew refused to meet my eyes, his jaw set, his hands clenched into fists. But he stayed stoic, and didn’t make any moves forward. 

The warlord had effectively cowed my people with his actions. He had not only staked his claim, he had left no doubts in any minds what he intended for me— what horrors he intended to inflict on my body. 

His men seemed overjoyed by this claiming, unlike my own people. Their cheers and excitement lasted what felt like half an hour before the warlord laughed and let me free. He bent to press a gentle kiss to my cheek, startling me out of my shock, then moved back down the stairs, bellowing out orders as he went.

“The warlord will return in two hours time for a banquet in his honor. The war prize will be ready by then, prepared to abide and attend at the warlord’s side, and to leave in the morning before the first cock crows.” 

Within a few minutes, all but the tall, skinny man that had stood silently by the warlord the entire time, and the translator, had deserted the inner courtyard.

And all was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think!!


	4. Readying the War Prize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amer is bathed and prepared for the warlord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure if a trigger warning is needed, but Amer gets pierced a few times in this chapter, and sort of groped without his consent.

AMER—

I was all but catatonic as I was led away by three of my father’s chamber servants— three men I didn’t know well at all.

Possibly the only three servants in or around the castle I didn’t know. 

Which was, of course, how my father planned it. 

They had me naked and shoved into a cold, shallow basin before I could even think to protest. And then they were lathering me in various oils and herbs, cleaning every inch of me as if they were going to be eating off of my bare skin.

I was horrified when I looked up and saw not only my father, Reignner, and Butcger, but the man the warlord had left, all standing around watching me being cleansed for the warlord’s pleasure. 

My father called out a few orders, words I chose to ignore as I studied the Akaran who stood stoically apart from my father and his men. He was tall, almost as tall as the warlord, and at least 10 years his senior— probably around my father’s age. He had black hair tinged with gray and white, a full beard, and leanly muscled legs and arms encased in thick leathers and weapons of various kinds. 

He nodded when our eyes met, but I looked away, afraid he would be angry I had been studying him so closely. I was curious about these men I would now have to serve, to live among, for the rest of my life.

When the servants helped me from the basin, I stood shivering in the cold as one brought forward a piercing kit. My cock was already pierced at the base, as well as my belly button, and my ears had a few piercings each.

Each piercing had a different meaning— the ear piercings showed my status as royalty, and my wealth as such. The cock piercing was a status symbol that I had passed my schooling and was no longer considered a child. And the belly piercing was personal— not something I wanted my father to see. 

Especially now. 

It was a signal to potential lovers that I preferred men over women. 

Despite my various piercings, I would need more. For a slave had their nipples pierced, and a sex slave had their perineum pierced with a bar. 

The Akaran held his hand up, and all three servants froze. I glanced up at him, terrified as he glared down at my father, who was at least a foot shorter than the stoic man. 

The Akaran moved over and studied the piercing needles, the jewelry that would be placed in my skin, and then his eyes met mine. I held his gaze steadily, despite my embarrassment at being completely nude in front of this needlessly large group of people. I don’t know what he sought in my gaze, but he seemed to have found it, for he put his hand down and nodded for the servants to continue. 

I muttered not a word or sound of complaint as both nipples were pierced, little drops of scarlet dripping down my stomach. Then I was laid on the ground in the bathing room— the cold rock harsh on my skin sensitized by the tepid water, the oils, and the pain I had already endured. 

My body froze and I clenched my eyes shut against the pain when cold, harsh fingers lifted my cock and balls and pulled them roughly up towards my belly. A vicious growl froze the fingers on my cock, and they were replaced with a much more calloused, warmer, and… gentler hand. I glanced down and met the eyes of the Akaran, my brows meeting above my eyes as he stared back at me with something akin to pride, almost… affection. He hushed me gently, his big hand holding my cock and balls up against my stomach, but without any pain, any harshness. 

He said a few words that sounding comforting, his other hand coming up to rub my arm gently as I almost unconsciously reached out and grabbed the edge of his tunic. My back arched and my eyes slammed shut again when the needle pierced my perineum, the pain slicing through the sensitive, tender skin and up my spine. The servant who had been piercing me seemed much gentler now that the Akaran was so near to see if he hurt me, and I was grateful to the man. 

The man who was my enemy. Seemingly protecting me from the man who should have been my friend.

But still, I made not a sound.

I could feel far too much joy wafting from my father for me to show him how much pain and humiliation I was enduring.

I thought of my sisters. Of Lillian, Charlie, Dew, all the others in the kitchen who had all but lain their lives out for me. Of Dove in the laundry, and Sally the head maid. Their faces got me through the worst of it, and I was gently helped to my feet by the Akaran once the bleeding had been stemmed and the wound cleaned by the servants. 

He patted my shoulder, as if to comfort me, and then the servants were dressing me. I clenched my eyes shut against the sight of the flimsy silks and transparent cottons as they layered me in the dress of a sex slave.

A female sex slave. 

I stared up at my father with barely contained rage. The Akarans wouldn’t notice the difference, the slight, of my wearing women’s clothing, but every El’kahrian in the room would. And they would think it was at the will of the warlord. 

No one could ever accuse my father of being stupid. Of not taking every opportunity to be snide and petty.

There was no tunic, leaving my newly-pierced, swollen nipples to be gawked at by any and all who so desired. The skirt was transparent, with only a small strip of cloth tied underneath to keep my cock and balls trapped up against my body. The rest of me was completely open to the view of any who looked upon me.

They braided my hair back with pretty, sparkling baubles, changed out my ear piercings with diamonds and rubies that dripped in lines of gold, attached to each other and braided back into my hair in an elaborate headdress that made it difficult to move my head. My arms were adorned with bracelets, my ankles with strings of gold and silver, and my belly button piercing changed out for a dripping ruby. 

The ruby resembled blood far too much for it to have been an accident. I stared up at my father, glaring as his eyes spoke the laughter I know he wanted to shove in my face. 

He had never seen my belly piercing before. Only a few of my closest friends knew about my preferences for men, and I kept the knowledge close. It was only one more thing my father would see as a weakness he could exploit. 

And since one of the only reasons he hadn’t ended my life years ago was because his council knew I was the only male heir they had, letting them know I would likely never provide them an heir could have ended in my death.

Now all would know. All would see my private secrets, screamed out for the world to see. 

I knew none of my friends would care for my preferences, but there was something violating about the thought that I wasn’t choosing the telling that sent shivers down my spine and made me want to crawl into a ball the way even being naked before everyone I had ever known didn’t. 

When the servants moved towards me with heavy blushes and makeup, the Akaran barked out a laugh and held his hand up, shaking his head. He spoke in Akaran, but his message was clear. 

The warlord preferred my face free of makeup. 

I met the Akaran’s eyes in gratitude, and his smile was genuine as he looked me over. I flinched when he circled me, but he kept his hands clasped behind his back and didn’t touch me. He came back around to smile into my face, his Akaran words of obvious approval drifting over me and making me blush even deeper than before. 

But when I saw the man who had moved up beside my father, I could almost feel the blood drain from my face. 

The Master of Slaves— Denbar the Cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I’m loving writing this story, so I hope you’re enjoying reading :):)


	5. I Don’t Know if I Can Do This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amer is almost mutilated by his cruel father, but Briggs steps in.

AMER—

The three servants who had spent the last hour dressing me quickly moved out of the way as Denbar stalked towards me. The Akaran was silent as the slave master grabbed my wrist, dragging me into the room next to the bathing chambers, where a stone slab stood to the side of the room. 

Immediately I knew where we were. Why I hadn’t recognized my surroundings until now. 

We were in the slave quarters. 

And I knew what this stone slab was used for. 

I could hear my father arguing with Butcger, but I all but tuned them out as I was dragged to the slab and shoved onto it. My heart slamming against my ribs, my entire body shaking so violently I feared I would fall to the ground, and my skin cold with fear, I fought against the hold of the slave master. 

But it was for naught. He deftly tied my left wrist to the slab, then my right, until I was standing, my knees knocking together, my back to the slab. 

And then the knife glinted in his hand as he yanked my skirts up and away from my skin. I all but screamed when his skin brushed against mine.

I looked up and around at the men gathered around me, my mind spinning with how quickly everything was moving. I could see one of the servants moving over with a basin filled with hot coals. 

The sight sent bile rising up my throat. 

“Father!” I cried, desperately yanking at the chains around my wrists as I stared in horror at the man who shared my blood. “ _Please_! You can’t… D-don’t _do_ this!”

My father barked out a harsh laugh just as the Akaran finally managed to catch up, moving into the room and studying the chaos around him. The slave master and servants were moving so quickly, it was taking everything in me to keep up with their actions. I wasn’t surprised he was taken aback too.

“I am father to you no longer, bastard child, if I ever was,” my father spat cruelly just as the slave master seized my cock in a grip meant to cause pain. I cried out and began to sob uncontrollably, finally breaking where I had been able to endure before, as I caught sight of the blade flashing in the slave master’s palm again. He had begun to shave me, the small trail of hair on my belly, and the bush around my cock, and the spellwork I could see carved into the blade I recognized. It would ensure hair never again grew from where he cut it. 

But it wasn’t all he would cut. 

Male sex slaves were gelded like dogs. 

A practice I had ended in the castle as quietly as I could— something my father had never discovered. 

“Gods,” my father finished with a great deal of amusement and fervor. “How I have longed every day of your life to say those words.”

“Your majesty,” Butcger muttered. “The warlord seemed a bit… _fond_ of that bit of anatomy on your… on the prince, don’t you agree? Are you sure you should—”

“— Silence,” my father growled, jerking his head at the Akaran. And all at once I understood. The Akaran was there to keep me from running from my fate, but also to keep me safe for the warlord. And my father guessed, rightly if the Akaran’s almost kind actions towards me while I was prepared as a slave for his master were taken into account, that the warlord wouldn’t want me gelded.

So he had the slave master shave me first, so the Akaran wouldn’t be any the wiser until I was already cut, my manhood severed from me like so much extra weight. And dear gods, he was almost finished. 

I screamed, yanking back as fiercely as I dared while the man at my feet flashed a knife at almost inhuman speeds so horrifyingly close to my cock, as I met the Akaran’s eyes. 

“ _Please_! Stop him!” I cried out in utter desperation, and to my great surprise and the entire room’s disbelief, the Akaran jumped into action. He was shoving the slave master back, the knife clattering to the ground, a tiny drop of my blood on the tip from a small nick he had slit in my thigh when he was pushed. And then he was standing before me, his sword drawn, his growl fierce, before I had a chance to take another breath. 

My sobs were almost violent as I laid my forehead against his back, praying my guesses had been correct. For if it was the warlord who wanted me turned into a eunuch, there was nothing I could do to stop him.

And I was terrified the act would take my mind. I had seen it happen a half dozen times before I was able to stop the practice, and now I feared my being gone would start it up again.

And that I would now be one of the brain-dead men, slowly dying away in their beds, because a piece of their being was cut from their bodies with the harshest cruelty. 

The Akaran’s harsh words were met with silence, but his intent was clear. Within a few seconds, I was being untied, and then, all while I leaned heavily against him, my sobs refusing to die down, he was tying my skirts back up, and dragging me up into his arms like a child.

He carried me out of the room, whispering a few words to someone I couldn’t see. I hid my face in his tunic as his words were met with a whispered answer, and I recognized the translator’s voice, then I was being carried what felt a great distance. 

I kept my face against his chest, although my sobs had begun to die out a bit, but my humiliation was complete as I heard shocked gasps around me when we entered a room I recognized. 

The Akaran let me to my feet, but I fell to the ground, my legs giving out on me as I looked around at the entire kitchen staff, frozen and staring at me in horror, surprise, and pity. 

Dew was the first to move forward and, despite the Akaran’s growl of warning, he helped me to my feet, his arm around my shoulders, and led me to a chair. A blanket was wrapped around my shoulders and a warm bowl of broth put into my hands, and I finally was able to look up at Dew. I met his warm, sad eyes with my own, probably swollen and red with my sobs, snot dripping down my face, and swallowed heavily.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered, the absolute terror in my voice making it crack. Dew had been my friend, my mentor, the closest thing I had to a father since I was a child. And now he looked at me as if he wanted to move mountains to get back to me, but he was helpless. 

“Did the Akaran—” 

I cut him off with a shake of my head. “He… The Akaran saved me. I…” I looked up at the man, deep in conversation with the translator. Both seemed confused and disturbed, and I wondered if they even knew what he had protected me from. “My father was going to have me gelded.”

My throat tightened and bile rose up, threatening to choke me. I glanced up as the Akari conversation stopped abruptly, the translator gaping at me as the taller man by his side looked from him to me, his confusion growing.

They didn’t know. They had been trying to figure out what had happened. 

I could tell when the translator managed to tell the Akaran, for his entire countenance froze, darkened, and then he was straightening and barking orders to the other man. The translator mumbled out an acquiescence and then he was gone.

Dew watched the exchange along with me, huffed, and then turned back to me.

“It is not exactly surprising, your father’s behavior.” I huffed out a sardonic laugh and Dew gripped one of my hands in both of his. “I wish I could carry this for you. I wish I could save you from this fate.”

I squeezed his hands back, and laid my forehead to his for a moment before pulling back. His words, somehow, had brought me back to myself enough that I was calmer and felt I could move forward again. 

“I must apologize for my behavior out in the courtyard,” Dew began again. “I was… It was foolhardy of me to act as if there was anything I could do to stop what was happening. I was afraid… I couldn’t—”

I cut Dew off with a smile, setting aside the broth before turning back to face him, grabbing both of his hands in mine.

“Your bravery was what gave me the courage to face my fate. I’m grateful I can do something to aid in this peace, to keep the lives of my family, and my friends safe. I’m sorry I voiced doubt. I shouldn’t have. I…”

Dew smiled and shook his head, dipping down to place a gentle kiss on my hands, still clasped in his. Then he stood and towered over me with a soft smile firmly in place on his lips.

“Gods watch over you, my prince,” he whispered, his fist at his heart, before he stepped back and began barking orders at the kitchen staff around him.

“We have half an hour left, and you’re standing around gawking?!” he screeched, moving away to let me calm myself down in peace.

It was only then I noticed the heady, probing gaze of the Akaran. I turned to him, my hands beginning to shake again as I put my right hand over the left side of my chest and dipped my head towards the man. 

“Thank you,” I said as steadily as I could. A few of the kitchen maids passed, their hands fluttering down to squeeze my shoulder or arm, and I gently held my back out to them. Private, I had always been, but I was nothing if not tactile with those I cared about. 

The Akaran’s steady eyes probed me, the women who had just passed, and then they moved to Dew, before lighting back on me again. He nodded, but there was no return smile. 

I wondered why he had brought me to the kitchens, how he had even found his way, and praised the gods that he had intervened.

But I also had to pray that he didn’t intervene for naught. Because he hadn’t understood what he was stopping, it was entirely possible I would be tied down again and cut once the warlord had control over my body. 

I had no guarantees that a eunuch wasn’t exactly what the warlord preferred of his sex slaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING! let me know what you think!! :)


	6. Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War Prize is presented to the Warlord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, somehow I mixed up my chapters. Not a huge deal, because it’s just mixing up the same scene but through Geir & Amer’s eyes... sorry anyways though. Basically I think I just put chapter 6 as 7 & vice versa. Don’t know how I did it....

GEIR—

When Ravi burst into my tent, where I had been readying for the banquet the El’kahrians were putting on for us, I automatically jumped into full alert. I grabbed my sword and tied it to my waist while he spoke, telling me of Briggs’ demand that I return to the castle immediately. 

To protect my War Prize. 

According to Ravi, the prince had no plans to escape, and had made no attempt to do so. He had been compliant while he was dressed for the banquet. But his father had other plans besides blind submission. 

“He did _what_!?” I screamed when Ravi told me of my War Prize being gelded like a fucking horse. That soft prick I had held in my palm not an hour before— cut off like it was unneeded, distasteful?

_Why?_

“Warlord, Briggs stopped them. But he said it was a near thing. He didn’t understand what was happening until the prince began to panic. He thought they were only shaving him.”

“And you weren’t with him, why?” I growled as he followed me to the assembled horses. We would return with only 30 men. The rest had already begun the trek back home. We would join them in the morning, and the true celebrations would begin when we were back home. 

This was a show of force and to prove we were victorious to the people of El’kahr. Nothing more. 

“Warlord, Briggs thought the prince was embarrassed by the preparations. The king had some of his advisors and three servants in the bathing chambers already. Briggs wanted to preserve the war prize’s modesty and pride as much as he could.”

I nodded, grunting in approval, before I leapt atop my stallion and gestured for Ravi to follow. 

“I apologize for my anger. He was right, as always.”

“Yes, Warlord,” Ravi agreed, following my lead and jumping atop his own horse. 

When the prince had moved towards me, his people rising up behind him to protect him after I had claimed him before all, I could see the determination mixed with terror in his eyes. And I knew immediately what he was doing as he prostrated himself before me. Even before Ravi had translated his words, I knew them in my soul— his whole submission to me. 

Even as his face paled in terror and his eyes thinned with indignation, he gave himself to me to protect his people.

When I held him to me, claiming his body as my own with my words to my men, and my body covering his, the way he submitted with his entire being, his body limp and ready for me to manipulate to my will, told me he understood. He knew that his place was now in my arms. In my bed. 

Those were not the actions of a coward. Those were the actions of a man used to self sacrifice for others. 

One I wanted as my own. As my mate. My hard-earned War Prize. 

We were met with only a few stable boys and a handful of guards this time through the gates into the front courtyard of the castle. We handed our reins off to the boys, a few silver pieces changing hands for their trouble, and I and my chosen sergeants and captains made our way through the large double doors into the front entryway. 

Ravi led us through a few hallways, until we came to a set of double doors that were similar to the ones at the front. Two men pushed the doors open for us, and we were met with bright, dripping crystal chandeliers, stunning candlelight, heady perfume, and over a hundred set of eyes. 

I made my way down the steps into the banquet room, the crowd of nobles, dignitaries, men and women in ridiculous finery parting with each step I took. 

When I reached the throne, the king stood beside it, rather than where I knew he would normally sit, and I took great pleasure in turning and, without ceremony, sitting in the throne reserved for the king. 

For while I was still in his country, his throne, his crown, his very life, was mine. 

The king muttered something, with an almost indignant air to his tone, and Ravi translated quickly. 

“He comments that you are earlier than you said you would be,” Ravi translated. I grimaced and nodded, my eyes flickering around the room in search of my sweet and fiery mate. I could see my men trying to mingle with the nobles around them, many of my men being fluent in El’kahrian, but being utterly unsuccessful.

“I was eager to get back to my War Prize.”

My words seemed to mollify, if not amuse, the king, as he stepped back and ordered another chair brought for him to be set a little ways away from the throne where I sat. 

“Where is my little mate?” I mused, Ravi joining in my search. 

“I could go ask—“ he began, but my no doubt shit eating grin stopped him. 

As did the sudden, complete silence in the room as the crowd parted like the morning curtains before the small man I had claimed for my own. 

The one who was dressed in the most provocative, stunning garb I had ever seen. 

I both hated and loved the way he looked on sight. His body should be for my eyes only. His beauty only for me to enjoy, to possess, to devour. 

And yet I couldn’t begrudge that he looked absolutely stunning, and a simple glance down his long, lean legs, bared for me, had my cock twitching in interest in my leathers. 

“If there’s one thing the El’kahrians know, it’s finery and beauty,” Ravi whispered in a subdued, awed tone, and I couldn’t disagree. 

The prince was all but nude, his nipples newly pierced, looking sore, red, and swollen, but stunning with diamonds dripping like tear drops. The same diamonds rose up both ears, tangling with each other and rising up into his braided hair, but the little drop dangling alluringly from his belly button was a scarlet ruby. He had silver and gold bands rising up both arms and his left leg. The skirts that rustled sweetly around his ankles were transparent, his cock and balls the only bit of him hidden from sight— held up against his body by what looked like a small strip of satin. 

His fiery, striking blue eyes seemed to glow as his eyes met mine. The anger and hatred seemed to have dulled somewhat in the few hours since I had seen him, but the stubborn set to his full lips, the tilt of his delicate chin, and the way he walked with his head held high on his slender neck, told me he was the same man I had left not two hours before. 

“Dear gods,” I all but whimpered, just barely holding myself back from squirming and readjusting my hardening cock as he reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the throne. 

“He is more than worthy, Warlord,” Ravi whispered reverently, and I grunted. It was all I could do not to leap up, toss the man over my shoulder, drag him into the nearest private room and throw him over the first surface I could find. 

The whispers and murmurs had followed the prince all the way to me, and they now heightened in pitch as he again dropped to his knees before me. He made a motion with his fist— his right hand moving over his heart and then out, before wrapping both of his arms over his chest. 

His words were said with no inflection, but no hesitation, and when Ravi translated I couldn’t help the thrill that rose up my spine. 

“Master, I willingly submit to you as your War Prize.”


	7. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amer’s choice— Geir’s acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amer’s dad is a jerk & uses derogatory words against queer people in this chapter. Don’t know if that needs a trigger warning, but it made me wanna slap him, so I figure it’ll do the same to others...

AMER—

It wasn’t long before Hestiel found me in the kitchens, and without a word, led me and the Akaran from the kitchens and into a small room just outside of the throne room. Mem’s bright eyes shone with unshed tears as she met my own, and she and Hestiel all but ignored the foreign man at our back as they let me fall into their arms. I was out of tears, out of rage, and just trying to stay calm. But the warmth and love I found in their arms made my sore eyes hot. 

“We packed a bag for you— we were told you could only bring one. We included as many of your notebooks as we could, little brother, but there just wasn’t much room—“

“Hush,” I murmured to Hestiel, pulling away and squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I’m sure whatever you packed for me will be perfect.”

“Re,” Mem whispered, using my childhood nickname I hadn’t heard her say in years. “I’m so sorry. I prayed the warlord wouldn’t pick me. Oh gods, is this my fault?”

I laughed and Hestiel rolled her eyes as Mem stared at us, distraught. 

“My dear Mem, I’m so glad it was me rather than you.” I turned to Hestiel. “I’m even glad it wasn’t you, though I’m sure you could give the prick a run for his money.” I was rewarded by only a slight eyebrow raise and I couldn’t help the chuckle that rose to my lips. 

“But Hestiel, you must… for my sacrifice, for sparing the two of you, you must do something for me.” Hestiel’s nod and Mem’s tear-streaked, wide-eyed jerk of her head was the only answer I would get, so I continued. “Hestiel, you will rule after father now. You will make this happen. I know you will. You must protect Mem. She _must_ choose her own future, her own fate. I cannot tell you the evil I can feel from having the choice taken from me. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Do not take her choice from her. Do you understand?”

Hestiel nodded stiffly, and I smiled again. “Please, sisters. I’m sure it won’t be so bad. He’s even handsome, in a barbaric, sort of animalistic—“

“— You think so, slave?” 

My father’s voice cut like a knife, my entire body vibrating in awareness of how close he was moving to me. 

“You think you’ll enjoy being sodomized by a barbarian, because you think he is handsome? You will enjoy being fucked in dark corners, over tables and couches, before he returns to his wife and family? You will take pleasure in the time you spend with him, with the little bit of affection he shows you before he beats you, taking his daily frustrations out on you rather than his wife or real concubines? This sounds like the kind of life you’ve always wanted, does it?”

“Well, he has always been a faggot. So maybe it is,” Reignner chuckled, and I could feel my face beating as both he and my father’s gazes dropped to my belly button piercing. 

My closest held secret. Told only to those nearest to my heart. 

“The barbarians are known for their harems— their sexual promiscuity. I’m sure he won’t mind sharing you with his men, or the other servants and slaves, if you get lonely,” my father continued, each word digging into my skin, feeling as if each syllable was peeling away layers of armor I had been building over the last few hours. 

“Father, that is enough,” Hestiel spit, her hatred and disgust a tangible thing in the air around us. 

“You little—“ my father began, but he was cut off by a flurry of noise outside the door. 

The warlord had returned. 

My father shot one last hate-filled smirk my way before exiting in a flurry of expensive perfumes and silks, leaving my sisters clutching to me as if I was headed to the gallows. 

Before long, I was being led into the banquet room, my sisters at my back. The Akaran guided us through the crowd of nobles and dignitaries, the whispers around me growing in fervor with each new set of eyes on my naked, prepped body. I managed to keep my eyes straight ahead, my head high, and my face as stoic as I could only because of the strength pouring into me from my siblings at my back. 

What did I do to deserve such loyalty? That two princesses, daughters of the crown, would stay at my back even though I was now nothing more than a slave? 

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, reciting the words I knew had to be said in front of my people, to show my abject submission and keep them from rebellion, I couldn’t help but blow out a relieved breath.

I had made it, had said the words, and not a sob or crack in my voice had been set loose. 

The warlord’s answer was drowned out by the cheering of his men. Suddenly he was beside me, lifting me until I was inches off the ground, my breaths mingling with his with how close he had brought us to each other.

His whispered word was lost in the chaos of the cheers behind me, but the intent was clear as he pressed his lips softly, gently, to mine. I could barely breathe with the shock of the move, and of the tenderness behind the gesture. 

He bodily manhandled me around until we were in the same pose as we had been earlier that day. My back to his front, his left arm wrapped around my chest, down to gently cup my manhood in his calloused palm. His right arm around me to possessively clutch at my neck.

My shiver this time was less shock at the sudden touch and more arousal mixed with terror— it wasn’t even an hour since that same prick he now held had been in danger of being sliced off. 

This time, he held the pose as the Akarans in the room cheered, bellowed, and clapped. I looked around the room, noting the horror in my sisters’ eyes, the pity in many, and the absolute joy in the eyes of the Akarans.

They took great pleasure in my subjugation and humiliation, it seemed. 

Gooseflesh tickled my skin as the warlord’s hard, warm lips met my neck. He used his hand that was wrapped around my neck to tilt my head to the side, before digging his face into my skin and breathing deeply. 

_Is he sniffing me?_ I thought in shock, desperately fighting to keep my face impassive and my body pliant. 

To my horror and frustration, the shivers that raced up my spine and pooled in my sac, were of arousal rather than disgust. 

Dammit, this man’s warm body felt almost sinful after being bone-cold since the tepid bath I’d been shoved into.

Before long, the man’s nuzzling turned into gentle nips, and then he opened his mouth, his teeth digging into the junction between my neck and my shoulder. His teeth didn’t break skin, and it didn’t hurt yet. 

And yet it took every fiber of self control in me not to tense up and shove away from the sharp canines I could feel digging into my skin, just asking for an excuse to draw blood, the tongue he was now using to gently, delicately soothe my hot skin. 

When he pulled away after a minute of holding me completely immobile, his growl, almost purr of pleasure, shot a jolt of lust straight to my dick. 

And I was left praying I wouldn’t grow hard now, here, while I was completely naked in front of a hundred or more people. The damn strip of cloth that hid my prick wouldn’t be able to withstand a strong wind, much less an erection. 

“Well done,” I heard from behind me, coming from a few feet away. The translator met my eyes with respect and reverence practically pouring from him. “Your submission is beautiful to witness, War Prize.”

I didn’t understand what he meant, but when he seemingly repeated his words to the warlord, the warlord’s nod and growl of approval, dragging me behind him to my father's throne, I guessed I had done something right. And the warlord agreed. 

The flash of joy, of pleasure, of _rightness_ , was a shock and was followed immediately by shame. 

The warlord’s hands, calloused and scarred and lined with his years, were gentle as he motioned to the large white cushion that was set beside my father’s throne. I could feel my humiliated blush return tenfold when I realized that was where I would spend the banquet. 

At the feet of our conqueror. Like a dog.

 _No,_ I reminded myself as the warlord sat, legs spread wide enough that his right leg dug into my arm. _Like a slave._


	8. Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Akarans discuss the events of the day— they realize what the El’kahrians are being led to believe about the meaning of a War Prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the confusion with the chapters. They’re good now :):)
> 
> ***In fixing the chapters I had to delete one (I suck at this, so there was probably an easier way but I was getting frustrated haha) so it deleted any comments on chapter 6– I think that was the chapter I deleted & redid) Sorry, I didn’t purposely do so!!!)***

GEIR— 

My fierce little mate, my War Prize, was right where he belonged— by my side, within reach, so I could touch him all I wanted, and protect him if need be, and as comfortable as I could make him. No hard wooden throne for my mate. 

Tasting him, letting my teeth hold him still while my tongue teased the warm skin that pulsed at my touch, had been all I had hoped it would be. I was shamelessly hard, and I could see the smirks of my men as they began to come forward.

His submission truly was as beautiful as Ravi had praised. 

I couldn’t wait to get him alone. Show him how his submission and subjugation to me would be rewarded. 

My mate would never be left wanting. 

My mate’s sisters moved to the side as Steven, one of Briggs’ captains, moved toward me first. He saluted me, my mate, and then he moved on. They would each step forward, one by one, showing their acceptance of my choice of War Prize, and their support of the peace treaty, before moving away to make room for the next man. 

I could sense my mate’s confusion at our actions, but I left Ravi to explain when I heard him whispering to the young man. Briggs moved to my other side, his hand on my shoulder strong and steady. 

“His father wanted to cut his prick off? Fucking why?” I growled, keeping my attention on the men before me, respecting their right to show their support. 

“They first bathed him, with far too many witnesses,” Briggs began, and I settled in for his report. “It was as if the king took glee in causing his son distress. The servants who bathed him are the only ones I’ve seen who have not wanted to kiss the ground he walks on. They were rough and rude with him. I almost stepped in a number of times, but I sensed my intervention might cause more distress to your mate. Take away some small bit of pride he was clinging to. 

“They then pierced his nipples and his perineum.” I couldn’t help but palm my cock at the thought, and Briggs rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored my excitement. “There was something very… calculated, cruel, about everything they did. There was a point to it, some nuance I didn’t understand.”

“I may be able to help with that a bit,” Ravi cut in quietly, as if afraid someone might overhear. “El’kahrians pierce their ears and cocks, women pierce their noses. But piercings have different meanings, depending on location. The one he has on the base of his cock is received by all men when they pass their studies— usually at thirteen. The ones up his ears show his wealth and status. The one on his belly…” 

Ravi paused, looking down at the prince, who was studiously ignoring our conversation. 

“That one is very personal. Women get it freely, but on a man, it declares a preference for the company of other men.”

“How fortuitous for me,” I laughed, affectionately fingering a few of the diamonds dripping from my mate’s ear. His blush rose up his neck, but he fixedly stared away from me. 

“Yes, Warlord,” Ravi said, but I could sense more he didn’t want to say. 

“What is it, Ravi. Finish what you were saying.”

“Nipple piercings are for slaves. And perineum piercings are specifically for sex slaves. And his clothing… the jewelry… it is meant for a female sex slave. Everything he wears is meant to degrade him. And look at his people— they think it’s by your will.”

I looked around and shrugged. “It makes a sort of sense, I suppose. They were a little more afraid of him leaving that I had thought necessary. They think he leaves to be a… bed slave. Good gods, these people and their slavery.”

Briggs grunted in agreement, and I motioned him to continue with his report. 

“Warlord, I ask your forgiveness for something I did while I was watching over your war prize.”

“Speak, Briggs.” 

“I touched his prick, and his nutsack.”

I was surprised by the furious growl that rose to my throat and past my lips. I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing, startling my little mate out of the sleepy stupor he had fallen into. 

Logically I knew Briggs would never betray me. But my body had reacted without thought. 

“Explain,” I bit out, trying to keep my eyes on Briggs and not my mate’s terrified gaze. 

“When they pierced his perineum, one of the servants grabbed his prick and balls to hold them out of the way of the needle. I didn’t like the way they touched him. It was almost purposely meant to inflict pain. So I did it instead, and soothed him with rubs on his stomach. He bore the pain bravely. You would have been proud. He cried out not at all. I will accept any punishment you require, Warlord, for touching what I knew to belonged to you.” 

I shook my head and flopped back onto the throne, shaking my head. 

“You protected my mate, cared for him in a time I couldn’t be by his side, my friend. You are forgiven.”

Briggs nodded his gratitude, and then he began again.

”Another man came in— total of eight men now seeing the poor boy naked as the day he was born even though it caused him obvious distress— who I noticed immediately the prince was terrified of. He was taken away into an adjoining room so quickly I could barely keep up. By the time I entered the other room, the boy was tied to a rough stone table, being shaved by the newest man. The boy was visibly terrified, which I thought strange since he had uttered not a word or cry while being pierced in very intimate places, and the man was only shaving him. 

“The boy and his father argued, the boy seeming to get more and more agitated and afraid by the second. When he looked to me and uttered what sounded like some sort of plea for help, I intervened. It wasn’t until Ravi overheard the war prize explaining what had happened to the head chef that we understood what had almost happened.”

“Why would he…?”

“Most male sex slaves, except those destined for the use of women, are gelded. They call them eunuchs,” Ravi explained, and Briggs shook his head and snorted. 

“That may be the case, but if that was the reason his father tried to do it to him, I’ll cut off my sword hand.”

I nodded in agreement, distracted suddenly by my little mate. As we had been talking, he had slumped against me more and more. And he had just managed to lean what felt like all of his weight against my thigh, his head tilted to lie on my upper thigh. I ran my fingers through his hair, smiling when the diamonds glittered in the firelight that surrounded us. I could feel Ravi and Briggs step away to give me privacy as I showed my new mate affection. 

“Amer,” I whispered gently, testing the name on my tongue. His twitch and quick glance up at me showed that I had either pronounced it wrong, or he was surprised I knew his given name at all. 

“He really is a commendable War Prize, Warlord,” Briggs whispered as I traced the ridge of the younger man’s nose, each eyebrow, the shell of his ear, as he held perfectly still for my perusal.

“He is fierce as a tiger, and yet gentle enough to tame the wind. He draws others to him— everyone reaches out to touch him, to ask for him to touch them, simply to be nearer to him. He is perfect.”

“But?” I whispered, my fingers moving to gently massage my mate’s eyelids. They were swollen and tinged in red, and I knew he had spent much time crying this day. 

He needed rest. He was exhausted. 

“But… he is beloved, Warlord. He is almost… worshipped. They love him, the men and women of this castle. And from the way his father and those close to his father treat him, that may be the only reason he is still alive. I have never seen a man hate their young the way that man hates that boy.

“I fear revolt if he voices even one word of discontent.”

“I agree with your assessment, Briggs. But he won’t speak one. He wants peace more, I think, than any other in this place. He is terrified of seeing any of those he loves hurt.”

Briggs’ grudging agreement was followed by a harsh, cold voice calling from the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne. 

“She asks for one more night to say goodbye to her brother, and asks to be allowed to bring him to bed now,” Ravi translated for the harpie-like woman who was glaring me down. 

“Permission granted,” I said readily. “Briggs, stay with him.”

Hestiel took a step back in surprise, and I could see she had been prepared for a fight— for me to deny her request— and my easy acquiescence had thrown her. I held back a chuckle as she quickly moved up to help a barely-conscious Amer to his feet, and dragged him from the throne room. 

Dear gods, the sight of his pert ass moving beneath that flimsy silk made me want to curse myself a fool and call them back. Spend the entire night worshipping the man’s stunning body. 

But I knew the woman was right. He needed at least a night to say goodbye to his past life, and to recover from the surprises and trauma this day had brought him. 

So I would have to force the image of biting those delectable cheeks, digging my entire face between them, away for now, and console myself with drink and comforting sleep of my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


	9. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all, we spent the night saying goodbye.

AMER—

I woke in a jumble of bodies. Hestiel lay at my back, her usually cold touch warm and comforting against my skin. Mem was asleep across my chest— my now clothed chest, thank the gods, in my normal sleeping shirt and pants. Dew slept in the far corner of the bed, his wife Mari clutched in his arms. 

And at least a dozen of my closest friends lay in various stages of undress on the ground around me. 

I had flashes of last night rush through my mind as I looked up at the lurking Akaran that had gently shaken me awake. 

Dew and Mari bringing me a small pot of bed oils and Mari trying to convince me to run. Gaston, a former slave, showing me the proper poses for subjugating myself to my new master, and even going into great detail on how to prepare myself so I wouldn’t tear when the warlord pressed himself into my body, keep myself clean before and afterwards, and even which foods to avoid to lessen my discomfort. 

Mem’s ears were resolutely plugged by a blushing Hestiel’s palms during Gaston’s entire explanation. But I was grateful for his care. 

In all, we spent the night saying goodbye. 

With the sky barely lightening to a dull gray with the coming sun, I dressed as quickly as I could in a sturdy pair of riding leathers, wool shirt, leather tunic, and riding boots. When the Akaran studied me but made no motions of disapproval, I figured the clothes were acceptable since we would be traveling. 

My goodbyes to my sisters were silent, barely-there kisses on their foreheads. Hestiel was awake when I pulled away, and her softly whispered, “Strength, brother,” carried me down the steps and into the courtyard, where my new master and the men he’d had with him the night before waited. 

My father was nowhere in sight, but Lord Reignner, my father’s favorite, was there to witness the warlord swooping down on me the moment my feet hit the courtyard cobbles. 

He lifted me off my feet, his hands firmly cupping my ass, and pressed his lips to mine. A swipe of tongue, the warmth of his skin against mine. He whispered something against my lips before pulling away and setting me down with a laugh at my probably dazed expression. 

I was lifted bodily onto a huge war stallion before I even knew what was happening, and then the warlord’s hard body was pressing me forward as he positioned himself behind me on the horse. 

With my new vantage point, I could see I wasn’t only surrounded by Akarans and my father’s advisor. What looked like the entire stables crew were standing around, staring up at me. 

All looked ready to spill blood. Some even clutched pitchforks and small knives in bloodless fists. The path out of the courtyard, and even seemingly down the path through town, was lined with villagers, mostly men, all clutching some sort of weapon, even if it was only shaking fists. 

My fear was instant and terrible. Especially when the warlord at my back’s attention was caught by the same image mine had been. 

Dear gods. They had come _looking_ for a fight. Looking for a reason to step forward and spill blood.

But the only blood that would be spilled was theirs. Even if they managed to kill these men, there were thousands more we had been unsuccessful in defeating once already. 

They would be slaughtered. If not today, then in a week when the troops were brought back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think!! <3
> 
> Super short chapter, I know :(


	10. Would They Die For You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They show you great loyalty,” I whispered directly into his ear, fighting back a chuckle when he shivered and gooseflesh rose up both arms and tickled the back of his neck. How I loved how responsive his body was to me. “Would they die for you? You for them?”

GEIR—

My mate noticed his people surrounding us at the same moment I did. And my concern at the potential blood loss, at having to protect my new mate from the chaos a battle would bring, was nothing to his terror. 

“They show you great loyalty,” I whispered directly into his ear, fighting back a chuckle when he shivered and gooseflesh rose up both arms and tickled the back of his neck. How I loved how responsive his body was to me. “Would they die for you? You for them?” 

If the performance in this same courtyard the day before was any indication, they rose up for him. To protect and defend their beloved prince. They waited only for a sign from him. A whimper, a tear, a cry of pain. Anything they could use as an excuse to step in and take him back. 

I could almost hear his clever mind working out my words— he couldn’t understand them, but he knew what they meant anyways. And the moment he came to accept what he must do, I couldn’t keep the smug smile from my face. 

He leaned back, falling comfortably pliant in my arms. It was a stark difference to the rigid, stoic, reluctant body language of just a moment before. And then his hands were grabbing mine, holding them around his waist affectionately. 

I found I liked being sought out by my mate. Each of our touches until now had been initiated by me. But this was him reaching for me. 

My heart and body didn’t care that it wasn’t due to any desire for actual touch, and was his way of putting on a show. 

I held back a chuckle when he waved and called out to a few people by name, a few words exchanged cheerily, and then we were riding through the throngs that lined the path out of the capital of El’kahr. And with each person we passed, there was a cheery wave, a smile, a name or greeting, and the crowd’s demeanor changed. No more were they standing as if preparing for battle.

They waved and called out, and I could even see a few tears shed in farewell. 

My War Prize held genuine, pure magic in his soul. He was the most worthy of mates. I was proud of the honor of calling him mine.

“Good boy,” I whispered when we reached the outer gates. His only answer was a grunt of acknowledgement. 

I kicked my stallion into a steady trot, and by noon we had caught up to the main force of my troops. 

Their cheers when they saw me, and my chosen War Prize, were deafening. I laughed heartily when my War Prize jerked in surprise at the hundreds of men cheering for our mating, but I only smiled and waved and held him closer. 

He was our symbol of hard-earned peace. He would be revered and worshipped as not only my mate, but the War Prize that had been the sign of the end of a war we had never wanted, never asked for. 

Once a War Prize was acquired, it was a sure sign we would see home— lovers, friends, family, children— soon. 

And this drove their cheering even louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments are always welcome :):)


	11. The Warlord’s Tent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “War Prize, you will see with time, that slave and War Prize are most definitely very different things. The warlord, and the rest of us, we will prove to you, that we Akarans aren’t all evil barbarians. You are our beloved War Prize, the symbol of our hard-earned peace— we will show you with our actions what this means, because our words are obviously inadequate.”

AMER—

We only stopped to rest a couple of times throughout the day, each for only a few minutes to relieve ourselves and water the horses, so by the time I was lifted to the earth by surprisingly gentle hands, my entire body was stiff and in pain. Almost 12 hours on horseback had left my ass almost numb from the saddle’s hard, unforgiving surface, and being in the warlord’s arms that entire time had made me on edge and clenched. Due to this, my muscles felt like jelly and I shook like a leaf. 

The warlord’s oddly gentle, soothing hands led me over to a copse of trees, followed closely by Ravi. A few soldiers had set up a rest area, with a couple of large cushions, and a low to the ground table, with what looked like an assortment of nuts, dates, wine, and various fruits across its surface. 

The warlord led me to one of the cushions, carefully helping me to sit with my back against one of the trees. He murmured something with a soft chuckle, and I looked to Ravi, who blushed and smiled at me sweetly.

“He says your body is delicate like the finest lace,” Ravi translated. The warlord’s fingers gently traced the lines around my mouth, but I pulled away and stared resolutely past him, my aching body rigid with my sudden anger. 

How dare he mock me? How dare he take me from my home, my people, all those I love, uproot my entire life, and then mock the fact that I wasn’t as used to the harsh demands of traveling for hours on end?

How _dare_ he?

How had I managed to somehow attract a man who would mock me the same way my father loved to? Would I spend the rest of my life the way I had spent it up to now— being made to feel small, less-than, dirty and wrong? At least up until now, I’d had some small bit of freedom. I’d been able to escape to the libraries, to the kitchens, hide behind my books and my studies.

And I’d had hope. Hope that one day, I could find love. Could be free of my father’s far-reaching hands.

Freedom and hope were now things I must learn to live without. 

I wouldn’t be able to hide from a master the same way I could from my father. He was now my duty, the one who owned my time and self— my life would revolve around him. 

I could feel my cheeks heat as I saw Ravi and the warlord exchange what I thought may be confused, maybe concerned looks, before the warlord let out a tired sigh, a soft grunt, and moved away. 

I refused to watch him go. 

Ravi sat on the cushion set up across from mine. His eyes on me felt probing, and I violently shoved back the very sudden urge to break out into tears. I was so out of my element, so unsure how to act, what my new role was, and I was so damn sore, I wanted nothing more than to crawl somewhere dark and warm and curl into a ball.

“Did the warlord’s words cause offense, War Prize?” 

My head shot up, glaring at the man across from me in barely-stifled rage. 

“Oh, of course not,” I hissed sarcastically. “I love being mocked as weak.”

Ravi seemed taken aback by my vehemence, and he was silent for a time. His eyes never left me, though. Probing, confused, studying me. 

I kept my eyes resolutely on anything but him, watching the soldiers around me shuffling around, setting up the camp, caring for their horses and wagons of supplies, setting up tents. Every time one passed, they made that odd salute— their fingers on their foreheads and then out towards me.

Should I not be helping? Setting up the warlord's tent? Doing anything but sitting on a frustratingly comfortable cushion, surrounded by snacks I had yet to touch. It didn’t escape my notice that my little corner of luxury was the first thing the soldiers had set up— before even caring for their horses and their own needs. 

My confusion had never been higher. 

“War Prize,” Ravi finally began, his words slow and thoughtful. “The warlord mocks you not. I apologize if my translation was incorrect in some way, but he meant the words in the highest regard, I assure you.”

“How is calling me weak a compliment?”

“... Maybe my translation was—“

“—I’m sure it was fine. Delicate means weak. Flimsy. Like lace. I may be weak of body, but I…” I shrugged, horrified when I felt tears prick my eyes. A few of the passing soldiers glanced from me to Ravi with a range of concern and curiosity. 

I swiped my hand roughly across my face and stared up at the darkening sky, wishing I was anywhere but there, seemingly under the scrutiny of every man who wished to view me. 

“There is nothing wrong with having different strengths than others, than what is considered normal. You have a strength of spirit that is rare, War Prize,” Ravi said gently, as if finishing my sentence. “That is not unknown to the warlord. It is what drew him to you. He is fascinated by your fire, by the strength and steel he feels beneath your skin. But the gentleness of your heart is very attractive to him as well. He wants only to learn of you, and to teach you of himself. To be a part of your life, as you are now a part of his. Give him a chance, War Prize. As much as you may not have had a choice, I believe fate has brought you together and your future is bright.” 

“How could I have a bright future, as a slave?” I hissed in desperation, trying to stay angry so my tears wouldn’t fall. 

Ravi gasped, shaking his head with wide eyes. “You do not yet understand? We had thought… Good gods, I have been remiss in my duties as your translator. You are not a slave, Prince of El’kahr— far from it!. You are a War Prize!”

I knew my frustration was heady as I glared the other man down. “Giving it a different name does not make me something different. War Prize, slave. They’re the same thing!”

Ravi’s mouth twisted and he shook his head, but seemed unable to find the words to argue his case. 

_Because he knows it’s true._

“War Prize, you will see with time, that slave and War Prize are most definitely very different things. The warlord, and the rest of us, we will prove to you, that we Akarans aren’t all evil barbarians. You are our beloved War Prize, the symbol of our hard-earned peace— we will show you with our actions what this means, because our words are obviously inadequate.” 

With his words spoken, he seemed content to pull out a tome and read while the men around him finished their nightly routine. I mulled over his words for the next hour, the food before me untouched except by Ravi, who occasionally snuck a date past the pages his nose was practically touching as the sun set and he had only the distant torch fire to read by. 

Our almost companionable silence was interrupted by a handful of men, who saluted me, exchanged a few words with Ravi, and then left again. I looked to him to see what they had said, and he smiled over at me as he stood, dusting his trousers off before reaching a hand out to aid me to stand. 

“The warlord’s tent is ready, and dinner waits for you there.”

I nodded, a slight shiver of trepidation shivering up my spine at the acknowledgment that I would be sharing the warlord’s tent. 

I stood, dusting off my own leather riding pants before following Ravi past a half dozen tents, stopping before one that looked no larger or more grand than any of the others. He motioned for me to enter, and followed me in, his body staying half out of the tent. 

“The warlord is taking care of various things that came up over the day. He should be here in an hour or so to join you. The food is on the _rastban_ — I apologize, I don’t think there’s an El’kahrian word for the small, collapsible table we eat on when we travel. Please, eat, rest, and if you need anything, you can ask any passing soldier for me and they’ll fetch me.”

I nodded, looking around timidly as Ravi saluted and exited the tent. 

The warlord’s tent wasn’t anything I had expected. It was small— with barely enough room for the pallet of furs that didn’t look large enough for a normal-sized man, much less the warlord. Besides the pallet of furs, there were two packs, mine and the warlord’s, and a small table close to the ground— the _rastban_.

It surprised me that the warlord— the Akaran equivalent to a general— resided in a tent that looked as if it was no different than the ones his troops used. I had seen a war tent the castle servants had set up for General Agay before he left for the border of Akar almost 2 years ago. They had erected it in the courtyard to make sure it didn’t need any mending before the troops set out. It was at least quadruple the size of his soldiers’ tents, and would be set up with all the fine things he was used to at home— a desk, a full bed with cushions and blankets, a chest of clothes and all of his armor and weapons. Each night his men would erect it, and each morning they would take it down again. It took 2 carts pulled by oxen to carry it and everything he required with him. 

The contrast between General Agay and the warlord was shocking. And I tried to tamp down the tinge of respect I felt at the show of solidarity with his men. And the realistic, no-nonsense approach to war. 

_No wonder we lost so spectacularly,_ I thought traitorously. 

Kneeling beside the _rastban_ , I ate as much as my sore stomach and tired body would allow, before leaning back against the bed furs and staring up at the ceiling tent. 

I knew I should prep myself as Gaston had shown and taught me, in almost horrifying detail. But I couldn’t bring myself to stand up to retrieve the oils Mari and Dew had given me as a sort of morbid parting gift. Not only was my body exhausted and sore from the day of travel, and now sated from the dinner I had managed to eat, but somehow, making the moves to prepare myself for my new master would make it real. Solidify that I was no longer Amer of El’kahr, but a sex slave to be used at the whims of a master I couldn’t understand— in many ways. 

Not only could we not speak each other’s language, but our cultures, our personalities, our views on life, were so different. Opposites. 

How could I serve someone I didn’t even understand on a basic, human level?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!!!!


	12. Unsure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amer wakes to Geir’s hands on his body....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

AMER—

I must have dozed off, because I was woken by those frustratingly tender, large hands. He was all gentleness as he crouched beside me— I had managed to fall to sleep, kneeling, propped up against the pallet cushions. 

When I realized I had fallen to sleep waiting for him, I feared the worst. Horrified, I sat up, spreading my legs, shoving my hands behind my back, and presenting myself to him the way Gaston had taught me. He had drilled into my head— in the little time we had— how angry his masters would become if he failed to present himself to them properly. 

My sleep-addled brain sent an unholy stab of terror down my spine at the thought of the damage this huge man could do to me. Along with a million images conjured of his brutal, inhumane, sacrilegious acts during the war. The stories we had been told of the horrifying things he did to defeat my people. 

I kept my eyes lowered, so I couldn’t tell if my quick correction of my mistake pleased him. But his soft sigh— the one he seemed to use often with me— told me he was at least not angry. And those big hands helping me to my feet, leading me to the pallet, set my heart hammering for a completely new reason besides fear. 

Although there was that still too. 

There was something about the way he touched me— with reverence, tenderness, and affection— that spoke to something inside of me. Something that refused to listen to my mind, that was screaming he was evil. He would hurt me. He was the enemy. 

But that small bit, the part of myself that preened at his touch, that refused to listen to reason. That part wanted to beg him to hold me and never let go. That part of me still held out hope for a future I had power over. That I chose for myself. 

That part of myself was stupid and naive. 

He lowered me to the furs, made a “stay” gesture, and moved to his pack. He was back a moment later with two jars. 

He laughed when he met my eyes and held up one of the jars. He said something, then another word when pointing to the other jar. I didn’t understand either word, but I figured he was naming them for me, so I tried to memorize the words. 

I really needed to learn Akari as soon as possible. 

He tugged at my tunic, clearly motioning me to take it off, and though I did it stiffly and reluctantly, I obeyed. With a flick of his fingers, I had removed my shirt as well. He paused to study my bare chest and stomach, his breaths coming in deeper than before. Then he was pressing against my chest firmly. I lay back, leaning against my elbows, my chest rising and falling more rapidly as, his eyes never leaving mine, the warlord’s fingers moved to the laces of my trousers. 

I tried not to move, not to make any noise, as his calloused fingers deftly undid the laces, and then he was tugging my trousers down. I had to lift myself a bit to allow him to pull them down, and my blush was feverish and overwhelming when his eyes rose and then locked on my soft cock. 

He breathed out a word, and then he was throwing my unlaced boots and trousers across the tent and his hands were gripping my knees. I couldn’t help but cry out as he all but lifted me, tossing me further back onto the furs, now completely nude to his eyes. 

My gaze darted away when the warlord began to undress himself. He barked a few words, drawing my eyes to him, but I didn’t understand. 

Now fully naked, he bent over me, flipping me over onto my stomach without warning. And to my shame, I cried out in surprise again as I twisted around to stare back at him. 

He chuckled, his eyes rising up and down my body, before shaking his head, muttering something, and then he was kneeling beside me. I stared up at him in fear, my entire body shaking. But I refused to run. To be the coward he had told me he thought I was. 

I would submit to whatever he required of me, no matter what, so the peace between our people would last. I would protect my friends and family, even if it meant giving all of myself without choice. 

My shame was compounded that it took everything in me to hide behind my fear so my arousal wouldn’t surface, because the man was stunning. His long legs had muscles in places I didn’t know muscles could form. His thighs were each the size of my waist, and his stomach was ridged and looked cut from stone. His dark nipples were pointed and hard with his arousal, as was his cock. I barely glimpsed it before I forced myself to look away, but from what I had seen in that brief look, he was thicker than my fist, and probably as long as my forearm. 

My fear finally won out over my arousal at that sight, and my previously twitching cock softened against the furs beneath me. 

He sat for a moment, simply watching me, as if willing me to study him as he did me. But I kept my eyes on the tent walls as my panic began to spiral. 

And then he was straddling my back and my fear spiked. A terrible sort of whine escaped my throat before I could hold it back, all of my courage, my willingness to sacrifice myself for my people, beginning to falter. 

He ran a hand up and down my back, making soft, soothing noises. He stopped for just a moment, there was rustling, and then my entire body came to a complete halt and my confusion heightened to a ridiculous degree. 

His hot hands, now coated in something wet and cold, although it was warmed a bit by his skin, began to work up and down my back. He stopped every few minutes, and came back with more of whatever he was massaging into my skin. I let out a pent-up breath when he began to work on a knot just above my tailbone, the moan that rose to my throat husky and involuntary. 

He let out a sentence that sounded not quite angry, but definitely tense and harsh. 

I could feel his hard cock rubbing against my ass, my back, the backs of my thighs, as he worked. But it wasn’t as if he was deliberately rubbing it against me. Just that it was pressing against me as he moved to work my body into a puddle of goo beneath his hands.

The soreness and aches from the day of travel began to recede under his ministrations. He moved down, kneading my ass cheeks. I whimpered in pain, gripping at the furs above me as his deft fingers dug into my sore ass muscles. It was painful, but I could feel him working out the pain, and soon it was only warm and rhythmic rather than painful. 

Then he was moving down my thighs, mumbling what almost sounded like little curses mixed with words of praise. He spent the longest time on my ass and thighs, before moving down my legs, my feet, then back up just as thoroughly. 

When he made his way back up to my waist, my neck, and then my arms, I was pliant and half-asleep beneath him. Then he turned me over and started all over again, but on my chest, belly, and back down to my feet. He completely ignored my now rock hard, probably leaking cock, so I did too. 

I was so relaxed it took a moment to notice when he had stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, or just say hey :):)


	13. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Does it not bother you, the pain and degradation your mate went through when he should have been safe with family?“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... I had meant to upload these chapters on Monday, but I’m bored so... surprise! :D

GEIR—

During the entire massage, lathering the beautiful man with copious amounts of soothing, healing balm I had begged from one of the war party’s healers, my cock remained hard and ready. I knew my little mate was sore from the full day of travel. Unlike me and the rest of my men, my mate wasn’t used to the rigors of travel. He was sheltered, soft. Delicate. It was beautiful, but it would cause him pain over the next few days, until I could get him into my home and spend the rest of my life sheltering him the way he needed. 

I also knew he was completely unaware of the little sighs, moans, and whimpers he was making that were setting me on edge. My hands remaining gentle, my teeth were grated painfully and my muscles were clenched tightly. 

Gods, this man would be my death. He knew not how he affected me. How beautiful he was. How sensual. 

When I had ducked into my tent to the sight of him, his little sleep breaths stirring a lock of hair that had fallen in his face, my racing mind— overwhelmed with my duties— had calmed immediately. His body, slumped and yet somehow still stiff and rigid, fully propped against the furs and cushions that made up my sleeping pallet.

Waking him had been necessary, but regretful. He had been startled, and then the pose he had forced on his body— cock-hardening as it had been— had made him flinch in pain. 

My conversation with Ravi from only a few minutes before ran through my mind as I had helped him to his feet and over to the furs. 

“Warlord, may I speak plainly?” the translator asked, as I moved through the camp as quickly as I could, eager to get back to my War Prize. To claim him as mine, as I was required to do this night. He couldn’t be fully accepted as a War Prize until he and I had mated and our physical joining had been proclaimed to witnesses.

I nodded my acquiescence to Ravi’s words, pulled to a sudden stop by his grave tone of voice, and his gentle, hesitant hand on my arm. 

“I don’t understand something, Warlord. Why did you not explain to the El’kahrians that they have been deceived? That their prince has not been sold into slavery, but rather will be pampered as a great Warlord’s mate, and War Prize? Why allow his father to get away with the evil he almost committed, and the ones he surely did commit? It shows weakness, Warlord. Does it not bother you, the pain and degradation your mate went through when he should have been safe with family? I just… I've tried to understand, but I—“

“Calm, Ravi, and let me explain,” I cut in, before the man hurt himself with his blabbering. “We want peace, yes?”

“Of course, Warlord.”

“As part of that peace agreement, we swore to the king’s safety while we were choosing a War Prize and finalizing the peace treaty. My anger at the king’s actions, especially those against my mate, are near overwhelming. But think on what would happen if I were to break the rules of the treaty and punish the king for his trespasses? I am not only Geir, future mate to Amer. I am the Chief Warlord of Akar. My actions against the king of El’kahr would be an act of war.”

Ravi’s nod and dawning understanding was reassuring, but I had more to explain. I only hoped he would spread the word, so no others would think me weak for my actions in wanting only peace. 

“Besides the peace treaty, I don’t know enough of the politics of El’kahr to step in on Amer’s behalf. I don’t know the reason for the animosity between them, or if the king’s actions have some other underlying meaning. I will learn more of my mate, and his family. And if I must return when I am no longer Warlord, and end the life of my mate’s father as his mate, and not on behalf of Akar, then that is what I will do. But only once I no longer represent Akar and her war party and can do it with Amer by my side, in his name.

“And lastly, you asked why I didn’t clear up the misunderstanding with the people of El’kahr. The biggest reason is disbelief. Do you really think they would accept my word against their king’s? It would be a pointless waste of my time, to try to convince them of our good-will— and to what point? I will show Amer how wrong he is to think he is a slave, and prove that he was lied to. But even if they are told outright, the El’kahrians will not believe. Maybe you forget, but we are the enemy. This peace was forced on them by our victory and brutality. We killed their brothers, their sons, their lovers. Our words would be seen as lies told to them to submit more readily to us.”

Ravi’s mumbled acceptance and praise of my tactics towards peace carried me back to my tent. 

And Amer’s moans beneath me dragged me back to the present. 

Every time he twitched when I pressed up against a particularly painful spot on his sore body, I got a flash of the piercing between his balls and hole. And each time I wanted to see how that little piece of metal tasted mixed with his skin. How it would feel against my balls as they slapped against that little, sensitive area while I pounded into him. 

But I forced patience. With each moment worshipping his body, I praised him for his beauty. The softness of his form. The stunning glow of his skin. 

And with each new bit of his body I mapped out, I discovered a new sensitive spot. A place he was ticklish. A place that made him arch into my touch. 

It took everything in me not to replace my hands with my teeth. 

Patience, I told myself. I would have him this night— all of him— but I wanted him happy and aroused, not in pain. 

The piercing below his balls drew me back multiple times, and I made sure to press a bit of the balm around the wound. It would help it to heal faster. It looked a little swollen and red, probably from the travels, but it was healing better than I had thought it would. I mourned our language barrier, for Ravi’s words rang in my ears, telling me of the meaning my little mate attached to the small bit of metal. 

But, despite that, I loved the little piercing. I knew it was placed in a tender spot, so I wondered at the way it would feel for my mate if, when it was healed, I was to take it between my teeth and tug. Play with it while I pounded my cock into his body. Press against it while his cock thrust into my waiting mouth. 

With these thoughts running through my mind, I kept my hands off the bit of metal, knowing it would only cause pain at this point, but I didn’t remove it, as I had originally planned. I would wait, and when my mate knew my feelings on it, I would give him the choice of removing it, as was his right, for he was no slave of mine, or keeping it to please me.

For I found it would please me greatly to explore this bit of El’kahrian sexuality. 

When I turned him over to work on his front, and I was met with his hard little cock, such a perfect fit in the palm of my hand, I held back a growl of triumph. 

My mate found pleasure at my touch. 

I wanted to crow and bellow out my joy, but I held back and worked on his soft belly, avoiding his sore-looking nipples— although I did delicately make sure a bit of the balm worked into the little wounds, as I had with the one beneath his balls. And the same thoughts went through my mind again— thoughts of exploring how the piercings would feel for my mate if I were to tug them with my teeth, use them to pull him closer to me. How it would feel to have them rubbing up against my own as I pressed his body down beneath me. 

But they too would be taken out with one word from my mate. He was mine, but his body was his own, and no matter how much I liked them, I would burn them in the deepest fires of hell if my mate wanted them, and everything they represented to him and his people, gone from his body. 

My gaze was momentarily caught by his cock piercing, the one that I wanted to play with with my teeth, but I tore my gaze away and forced myself to move from his groin. Some day, I would explore those little bits of metal in much more… detail, but for now, this was for him, and I needed to focus on his pleasure. His comfort.

“So perfect for me,” I whispered as I dropped the lightest of kisses against the inside of his knee. He glanced down, lazy, drowsy eyes watching me with barely concealed arousal. 

When I deemed him relaxed, comfortable, and when I could see that the balm had done a magical job of dulling his pain, even making his nipples and perineum less swollen than they had been, I grabbed the second jar I had brought over to the pallet of furs. The bed oils that were infused with healing and calming herbs. 

My little mate would be tense and afraid for his first time— everyone was their first time, and he and I barely knew each other. But the oils would aid him through it, without impairing him the way drink would.

I wanted him to feel every bit of me. To remember who took his virginity, and made him remember every moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3<3


	14. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Give him a chance, War Prize_ , I heard in the back of my mind. Ravi’s words echoing through me as he begged me to try to understand the warlord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning— dubcon and then con? Amer is only submitting to Geir because he has no choice.... at first ;)

AMER—

No, I didn’t feel when he stopped his massage. But I definitely felt it when he started something else up.  
Between one breath and the next, my knees were all but digging into my chest, and his face was—

“Oh dear gods!” I cried, my entire body jumping as his tongue ran over the wrinkled, sensitive skin around my hole. I could feel his chuckle, dragging the rough hairs of his day-old facial hair against the skin of my ass, and I couldn’t help the yelp that sensation provoked. 

He murmured a few soothing words— probably something like “don’t be such a baby”— before his tongue was softly rubbing up and down my crack, drawing sharp sparks up and down my spine, and gooseflesh to rise across my entire body. 

I grabbed the furs around my head, clenching my eyes as his talented tongue brought me more pleasure than I had ever known was possible. I had never even touched myself down there, had never imagined that someone would… do what he was doing. 

Not only was he taking his time, lathering my ass, the skin around it, and my perineum with his spit, but he seemed to be… enjoying it. 

Immensely. 

His growls and grunts of approval were topped only by the soft way he rubbed my thighs while holding them up and out of the way of his probing tongue. 

As his tongue curled around itself and speared into me, past the ring of my hole, I cried out, reaching down to grab at his hair. It was an instinctive move to hold him to me, to try to get that sensation again, but I froze in terror that I had done it. 

How would he react that I had grabbed him, pulled his hair?

My fear must have reached him, because he pulled back, reached over to grab my clenched hand that I had yanked back from him, and placed it on his hair. Giving permission with the simple gesture. His smile was wicked as I ran my fingers through his hair, and then he was all but out of sight again and I couldn’t help but dig the fingers of both hands into his hair. 

His growl of approval egged me on, and I arched my back to try to get his tongue further inside of me. 

“Oh gods, yes!” I cried, my cock leaking continuously against my chest. I was practically rolled in a ball so the warlord could get at my hole— so much so I feared my own spend would get into my mouth. 

But it was a fleeting thought, quickly gone. 

Because I truly didn’t care after a while. I thought only of the sensations he brought me, and my pending release. 

“Please, Master! Please… I need…” I stopped, my head jerking to the side to grab at the edge of one of the blankets in my teeth to hold back a scream. He had forced a finger into my soaked hole, and was now pushing it in and out, his tongue digging around it, in with it, the two appendages working in tandem. 

Everything stopped, his finger stilling in my hole, his tongue retreating so he could look up into my eyes. His were dark with barely withheld desire and lust, and an almost violent need and heat. 

“Geir,” he grunted, the one word said around clenched teeth. I shook my head, just then noticing that my hips were rocking on his still finger, trying to get the friction my body had just a moment before. 

“Master, I don’t—“ I began, but he cut me off with a growl. 

“— Geir. No master. Geir.”

I immediately understood. Geir must be the Akari word for master. Or maybe his title— like Warlord. 

I nodded. “Yes, Geir,” I answered, using the Akari word for yes, as well. He managed to broadcast his approval with a single, bright smile, and then his mouth was back on my body and my mind shattered again. 

My left hand still tangled in his hair, I reached with my right to my twitching, aching cock. I managed one tug before the warlord was growling a warning. I stared down, between my legs, to his dark eyes that watched me with a steady, angry gaze. 

“I’m… sorry. I’m sorry, M— Geir.” 

I pulled my hand back, grabbing at the furs instead. My cock cried in frustration, my orgasm just barely out of my reach, as the warlord petted my thigh, as if in apology, or praise, I wasn’t sure which. 

I moaned deep in my throat when the warlord added a second finger inside me, scissoring them as he pulled back and extricated my fingers from the death grip they had on his hair. He positioned my legs so they were spread around him, rather than having my knees practically kissing my chin. 

And then he pulled both fingers out. He grabbed one of the small pillows, lifted me with one hand, and placed it beneath my lower back to raise me up for him. 

He scooped more oil onto his fingers, and then he was pressing three inside of me. The comfortable, warm sensation of having his tongue and fingers pressing in and out of me was intensified, but compounded to an almost scary degree with the heavy stretch of his three thick fingers. He began to push them in and out, twisting and scissoring them until I was panting and flinching from the stretch. 

When his fingers sought out and found a spot inside me that made stars dance behind my eyes, I couldn’t help the scream that dug itself through my throat. I had never felt anything like that. His smirk was evil as his fingertips danced against the spot, setting an internal rhythm I was happy to sing along to. 

He murmured a few soft, soothing sounds, his other hand rubbing up and down my belly. On every swipe down, he would tickle my belly piercing, sending a jolt straight to my cock. He seemed fascinated by the sparkle of the ruby, and the way I reacted when he twisted it just a bit. When I began to relax against the furs again, he was repositioning himself. 

He moved so quickly, I barely noticed until it was too late what he was doing. 

He had removed his fingers, coated his cock liberally with oil, and the tip was set up against my hole, ready to press inside of me. 

The panic that consumed me was instant and overwhelming. My arousal completely drained, my cock softened almost alarmingly quickly, and my chest was heaving. 

Dear gods, his cock was huge. There was no way he could press it inside of me and not hurt me. Possibly very badly. 

I grabbed his wrist that was holding his cock at the base to center it and aim it at my hole. His eyes met mine, flickered to my soft cock, and then moved back up to stare into mine again. 

“Please….” I whispered in Akari, not even knowing what I was begging for. Mercy, patience, gentleness? “Please, Geir.” 

The warlord tilted his head, and then his cock was pressing against my hole, one hand gripping my hip to hold me still, the other gently stroking my cock, trying to force it back to hardness. 

I cried out when he began to push inexorably forward, his hips moving in gentle little thrusts, pushing in an inch at a time, until his balls were pressing against my ass. I noticed then that my left hand was holding onto his right arm like a lifeline, my fingernails digging into his skin in what had to be a painful grip. My right hand still held his wrist, which was now rubbing my belly, soothing the sobs and heaving breaths I couldn’t seem to calm. 

He leaned down, moving carefully so as not to jostle me, and pressed gentle kisses against my lips, my cheeks, my ears, licking up the few tears that escaped my clenched lids. 

“It hurts,” I whispered in Akari against his cheek, as he pressed his face into my neck, holding me in his arms in a gentle grip. 

Dear gods, I couldn’t understand this man. He forced me, pushing his cock into me when I had no choice, no way of saying no, and then he held me softly, gently, to his heart like a lover. 

“Please, Geir. It hurts,” I repeated, in what I hoped was passable Akari. 

The stretch was all-consuming, and I felt overstuffed and wound tight. It was overwhelming and bordering on agonizing. 

He pulled away a bit and said a few sentences I didn’t understand, but his exaggerated breathing motions told me he was telling me to take deep breaths. I did, following his lead, and was shocked when the burning stretch seemed to lessen just a bit. 

And then his hand was cupping my cock, bringing it back to life, and the burning morphed into a sensation that made me cry out and arch my back. 

“Amer,” the warlord whispered, directly into my ear, followed by his tongue digging into the sensitive skin around and in my ear. I whimpered, and his chuckle made my cock, smashed against his hard belly and hand, jump. 

“Geir, please. I need…” I trailed off, completely unsure as to what I needed. Not even sure what language was passing my lips anymore. I just knew he could give it to me, and I felt I would die without it. 

“Mine,” he whispered in thickly accented El’kahrian, still cupping my hard cock, but now completely still, and meeting my eyes. “Say, Amer. Mine.” 

I glanced up at him, down at my cock— which I noted with annoyance fit perfectly in the palm of his huge hand— and then back up into his intense, dangerous gaze. 

_Give him a chance, War Prize_ , I heard in the back of my mind. Ravi’s words echoing through me as he begged me to try to understand the warlord. 

“Yours,” I whispered back in what I knew was thickly accented Akari, leaning up to press a soft kiss onto the inside of the elbow of the arm he was holding himself above me with. “Yours, Geir.” 

His sharp cry as he pulled out and dug back in, growling, “mine!” in Akari was drowned out only by my scream. I couldn’t even pinpoint if it was a scream of pleasure or pain. 

At that point they were so closely linked, I couldn’t decipher one from the other. As his hips began a steady rhythm, his cock gently easing into me, pulling out, then back in again, I could do nothing but hold onto him and pray I didn’t shatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;);)


	15. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We belonged to each other equally, but I feared, with the confusion he still showed whenever I touched him affectionately in passing, kissed him, tried to be nearer to my new mate, to get to know him as a courting couple does, that he still questioned each of my actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ;)

Geir—

“Calm, little mate,” I had told him as his eyes met mine, his cock softened, and his entire body clenched in pain. As I had thought, the little piercing on his perineum dug into my skin, drawing cold bolts of pleasure up my spine. And I wondered how it felt to my mate, to feel the piercing pressed so firmly against him? 

Gods, I hoped he didn’t demand it be taken out. I wanted to taste it, explore it someday. 

“Breathe; breathe; breathe; the pain will lessen soon. Just breathe.”

He didn’t understand the words, but he must have comprehended my breathing motions, because soon he was taking deep, catching breaths, and his body was relaxing. 

And then he submitted to my verbal claim, in my tongue no less, and I about lost control. I managed to keep my thrusts into his body gentle, still seeking his pleasure. And pleasure was what he felt, I was sure of it. His entire body was now rocking with mine, his hesitation and pain seemingly distant memories as he urged me on, grabbing at my hair, my arms, his fingernails drawing crimson drops of blood as he scratched at my back to drag me to him. 

My little mate was a demanding lover, and in that I reveled. I would wear the little injuries with pride for pleasuring my gentle War Prize so very well. 

When his cries turned manic, I reached down between us. It was difficult to reach his prick, as he had plastered himself against me— like an ocean octopus my mate was— but I managed to palm it gently. One stroke was all my mate needed before he screamed my name and exploded into my palm. His ass muscles clenching around my cock, milking me and making it next to impossible to thrust in and out anymore, caused my own downfall and soon I was biting his neck as I shot my seed inside his body. 

His gasps and near-sobs as his orgasm tore through him had me tightening the grip my teeth had on his neck. He moaned but turned his head to give me better access. 

Submitting wholly and oh-so-beautifully to my claim to his body and his soul. My War Prize, though unfamiliar with the ways of my people, seemed to naturally understand what I needed, what tradition dictated, from him this night, and gave it without thought. So naturally, I almost wondered if he had been schooled in the the art of submission to one’s mate. 

When my cock was spent, I pulled away just enough to pepper his face with kisses. 

“So good, little mate,” I whispered as I kissed his pain-wet, overwhelmed eyes. 

His heaving breaths matched my own as I pulled myself out of him, chuffing in satisfaction at the way his hole twitched and a small trickle of semen squeezed out. I reached down, gathering it up, and pushed it back in. He whimpered but made no move to pull away.

I lay next to him, propped on my elbow to watch him, because I didn’t want to lay on him and squash him— I was almost double his size, after all. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and confused, curious. I prayed he was beginning to understand. To fully comprehend the lies he had been told, and that he was as little my slave as I was his. We belonged to each other equally, but I feared, with the confusion he still showed whenever I touched him affectionately in passing, kissed him, tried to be nearer to my new mate, to get to know him as a courting couple does, that he still questioned each of my actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!! :):)


	16. Witnesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geir’s an insensitive jerk, and Amer is livid about it. 
> 
> I really do need to work on my summaries >_<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m uploading 3 chapters today, ‘cause this one & the next are super short. Just FYI :)

AMER—

When our breathing had evened out, and my body had stopped shaking violently from the almost agonizing orgasm the warlord had managed to pull from me, he stood and grabbed his shirt from where he had thrown it. He pulled me tenderly to my feet, and I blushed heavily when I felt his spend leaking from my aching hole and down the backs of my thighs. My own cum dropped down my belly and was slowly making its way down the fronts of my thighs— much less copious than his, but still visibly marking my body. 

His deep chuckle sent shivers down my spine, and had my spent cock twitching in exhausted interest. I glared up at him, trying to convey my annoyance at his amusement, but the look on his face had me trying to take a step back. I was held in place by his unrelenting grip. 

His gaze was possessive and fierce, and yet tender. He whispered a few words, and then his lips were on mine and I melted in his grip. 

Against my better judgement, this male was managing to bring down all of my walls. 

And the fear that brought me was heady. What would I do when we reached his home and I took my rightful place as his slave while he went home to whatever wife or family he already had? 

When he pulled away, he helped me to put his shirt on, then buttoned up the front for me. It was so large on me, it hung to my thighs, just above my knees. 

And then he was dragging me by the wrist, his own body still completely nude, thrusting the tent flap out of his way. 

I dragged my feet when I realized he was taking me out of the tent, but he was much stronger than I, and I had no chance of holding myself back. 

He emerged with a chest bowed with pride, naked body still slick with sweat, cock soaked with oils and his own spend, hair mussed from my fingers gripping him, and drops of my own cum visibly tangled in his groin hairs, and the dark trail of hair that led up his stomach. And, oh gods, he had fingernail marks up and down his back.

Gods, I had done that. Some of them looked as if they might even be bleeding a bit. 

He dragged me behind him— wearing only his shirt, my own hair mussed from my throes on the furs, my lips swollen from his kisses, my eyes puffy and probably red and blotchy from my tears, and a sure-to-bruise bite mark on my neck. My own spend dripped down the front of my legs, his down the back, and my limp from his cock having pressed inside me, I knew, was pronounced. 

All this, and he dragged us both into a throng of at least two dozen men. And I prayed to all the gods in listening range that they hadn’t been there the entire time. Thinking back, I had been anything but docile and quiet while he took me. 

The men fell silent for just a moment before they began to cheer, catcall, and hoot. The warlord held up my hand together with his own, holding our hands together above our heads, as if to show me off, and my entire body felt hot as the men whistled and hollered out their approval. They grew exponentially louder when he turned with what I could only describe as a shit-eating grin, to show off the marks I had made on his back. 

Dear gods, I had never been so mortified in my life. Nothing my father had ever done could even be compared to this. 

I went complacently when the warlord dragged me up against his body, his hands cupping my ass cheeks beneath the thin shirt that barely covered my body. And then his mouth was devouring mine while the voyeurs around us cheered.


	17. Angered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amer’s pissed and Geir is clueless.

GEIR—

I had angered my mate. I knew I had, I just didn’t know what had done it. He had been overwhelmed after we had mated, but also sated, with a little smile on his soft lips I guessed he didn’t even know he was showing. And then I had taken him outside, to proclaim our mating to a few witnesses, and now we were back in my tent and he was kicking around, mumbling angrily to himself, as he cleaned the proof of our mating from his skin. 

I forced back the urge to chuckle, knowing my laughing at him was a sort of trigger for him. I never meant to mock him, only found my little mate’s antics amusing, but I could tell it was a sore point for him. 

I wished we knew enough of each other’s languages for me to ask him what I had done wrong, but that was a wish I knew was impossible for now. 

So I could do nothing but wrap my mate up in my arms, clutching his perfect ass in my hands, and smile down at him. 

He immediately slapped my hands away, and I was unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled up in my throat that time. And his fiery, furious glare showed me how upset that made him. 

“Let’s sleep, little mate,” I whispered, leaning down to nip his ear in retaliation for slapping my hands. I took him in my arms again, and he let me lead him back to the furs. I could see he was nervous, probably afraid I would fuck his undoubtedly sore ass again. 

“We shall pleasure each other further when we reach our home. Until then, I don’t want you riding sore.” I rubbed his ass again, playfully, and again earned a slap and a glare. I chuckled as I pulled the blankets back and settled my mate beneath them, before joining him, pulling him up against me and covering his body with mine. 

He was tense— again probably afraid I would put my own needs above his and fuck him when he was still so sore— but I only held him against my body until his breathing calmed and sleep claimed us both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	18. Names and Titles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amer tries to learn as much Akari as he can, trying to figure out his new status in his new life.

AMER—

For three days, we travelled as we did that first day; for the most part. I no longer shared the warlord’s horse. I was given my own— a stunning, sturdy roan mare. But I rode by his side, and we rode all day, from before the sun rose to long after it had set. 

With my basic understanding of Akari grammar, and my beginner’s knowledge of common phrases and words, I was quick to pick up the rest of the language. A few of the men around me seemed to almost make it into a game, pointing out things that we passed and naming them for me. I had always had a great memory, so it wasn’t long before I understood the basic commands I was given. Although there were definitely still things I didn’t understand— and I knew to blame that on the cultural differences, rather than just a language barrier. 

The warlord continued to call me a word I had been unable to understand or translate. When I had finally gathered the courage to ask Briggs,— the man who the warlord had left to guard me after he had claimed me as his War Prize— in fumbling Akari, he had only grunted, pointed from me to the warlord, and repeated the word back to me. It could mean slave, or any other variation thereof. But the way the warlord said it was almost… affectionate. Like a term of endearment, so I didn’t think it meant slave. 

Also, I had never heard anyone else call the warlord Geir, so I was thinking it meant something more like “Master” than the title “Warlord” I had initially guessed. When I was able to pick up their word for Warlord, and I tried to use it to call Geir, he huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. He pointed at himself, then me, then back at himself.

“You are Amer. I am Geir. Not Warlord for you,” he muttered, finishing the sentence with that word I still couldn’t translate. 

He was the only one to call me Amer, when he so rarely did, rather than that word. All the others called me what I had guessed to mean War Prize. 

Did that mean… his name was Geir? That he was having me call him by his given name...?

I pushed the thought away. I needed to focus on what I could. I couldn’t worry about things I didn’t fully understand. 

The warlord and I, though I rarely left his side, spoke only a few words to each other over the next few days. I took him at face value— guessing he was just a quiet man. I saw him laughing and speaking with a few men, but for the most part he was silent, watching.

And touching me. Gods, the man was like a puppy sometimes. When we rode side-by-side, his hand was on my knee, my thigh, holding my hand. When we dismounted for breaks, or at the end of the day, he was always by my side within seconds to lift me down to my feet by my waist. His fingers brushed against the back of my neck as I spoke to the other men, trying to learn as quickly as I could so I would no longer feel like I was the only one not understanding some great secret. He often would reposition me so I was closer to him, bodily moving me, especially if I was talking to any of the men besides him and Briggs. And they just took in my being manhandled to his side, with him now between me and the man I was speaking to, with a smile and sometimes even teased him. 

Every once in a while, he would rub his hand up and down my back, reach in to press a gentle kiss against the back of my neck, and hold me against his body. His kisses were almost as frequent as his touches, softly pressed against my lips, my eyes as we lay wrapped in each others arms each night, wetly claiming my mouth when I woke to him staring at my naked body, bared for him. 

And yet, in the three days we travelled, he never again took me sexually. Many of his touches were blatantly sexual— the way he slapped my ass in passing, earning chuckles and wolf whistles from the men around us, the kisses where he pressed his tongue so ardently against my own I almost came in my trousers, when he pulled me flush against his body, groin to groin, and pressed his forehead against my own, breathing in deeply through his nose, as if memorizing my scent. All, I might add, in clear view of anyone who wanted to watch. 

That was something I didn’t know if I would ever get used to— his blatant disregard for propriety. 

But he didn’t take me anally again— for which I was grateful, for my entire body was sore from the rigors of travel. But I was also… hurt by the inattention. I’ll admit, I was upset. 

Each night, after we had eaten and spent an hour or so with his men, the warlord dealing with issues from the camp and other matters of business, he dragged me into his tent. He undressed me, seeming to take at least some kind of pleasure in watching me slowly revealed to him, bit by bit. And then he undressed himself while I watched, led me to the bed, and we slept with our hot, exhausted bodies wrapped around each other. His cock was hard by the time sleep claimed us, but he never reached for me to ease his ache. 

Each morning when I woke, as the sky just began to lighten to a soft gray, he was already awake and studying me. Sometimes he would pull the blankets away, so he could take in my entire body. Other times, he would be gently tracing the lines of my nose, my lips. He had an ardent fascination with each of my piercings, tugging on my belly piercing and watching my reaction, as I tried to keep my prick soft even though his ministrations sent shivers of pleasure up my spine. He would suck on my ears, his tongue and teeth laving at the various piercings there. But I noticed he only rarely touched my newer perineum and nipple piercings, as if knowing they were new and, therefore, still sore and healing. 

Every once in a while, he would rub his palms over my nipples, as if to watch them pebble, before smiling, muttering something to himself, and meeting my eyes. 

It took everything in me not to beg him to put them between his teeth and pull. 

Gods, I wanted him to. 

Each time I woke to him playing with my prone body, he would wake me thoroughly by ravaging my mouth until I was left gasping against the furs of his bed, before dragging himself up, grinning down at me, seemingly pleased with himself, and turning to dress. 

Had I done something wrong? He had pleasured me so thoroughly that, even though it was my first time and I knew it would be painful, as it always was, it was said, the first time, the pleasure had far outweighed the pain. But had it not been the same for him? 

Had I disappointed him somehow? I was inexperienced, I knew, so I hadn’t really participated much. I had been overwhelmed to the extreme, so I wasn’t sure if maybe I had done something that was unacceptable during bedplay.

Had he used me one time, only to throw me away? 

The thoughts roiled around my mind as I stared at him as we travelled. Every time he noticed my gaze, he smiled softly at me, sometimes lecherously, to which I blushed and looked away. Only to have my eyes drawn back to him within minutes. 

The second night of travel, after we had dismounted and left our horses to Briggs, the warlord dragged me to the middle of the camp, where men were already setting up a cook fire and starting on supper. He set me down on a cushion someone had laid on the grass, underneath a soft pine, and with a barked order I didn’t fully understand, told me to stay. 

I watched as he moved from one man to another, helping to unsaddle horses, settling them in for the night, setting up the tents, cutting the onions for the stew, with tears streaming down his face and a laugh on his tongue. 

_This,_ I thought, _is a leader._

The thought came unbidden, suddenly, to my mind, but I figured it was right. I couldn’t even imagine my own father doing any of the things I watched the warlord help his men with. 

I felt useless, sitting on the cushion like a child, so I stood and went to aid Briggs in feeding the horses and rubbing them down. I was gently, but firmly, led back to my cushion, and told to sit and stay again. I glared up at Briggs, but my ire was soon drawn to the warlord, who was laughing uproariously at my predicament.

“Want help,” I yelled at him in broken, heavily accented Akari. He met my eyes, studying me for a moment, and then shrugged and barked something at Ravi. The translator was a few feet from me, lying in the grass against another pine tree, his back to it, studying a large tome. He glanced up, and then nodded at the warlord and came over to me. 

“He says he wants me to help you with your Akari,” Ravi said, curling up on the ground facing me. “This is how you will be useful.”

I wanted to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. There were many things I was held back from by not understanding fully the things around me.

An hour later, my stomach was growling angrily at me, and Ravi was moving away to make room for the warlord. The large man moved towards me, set two bowls of stew down, before lifting me to my feet. He laid a quick kiss on the corner of my lips before taking my spot on the cushion and pulling me down.

Directly into the crook of his legs.

I squirmed and began to pull away, but he held me tightly to his chest, his face digging into my neck, licking tenderly at the bruise I sported where he had bitten me as he spent his seed inside of my body.

The tender touch against that spot had sparks dancing down my spine, and I shivered. He chuckled before pulling away just a bit to reach forward and hand me one of the bowls of stew. We ate in silence, my back supported by his thighs, his face inches from mine, in complete silence.

But it was a comfortable silence. 

His arms around me were warm, his body against me like a breathing hearthfire, and his calming silence made me feel safe in a way I didn’t know if I could remember feeling before. 

I should be terrified of this man. I should hate him. I should be treated like a slave, like a war prisoner, like a sacrifice for peace. Instead, I was handled delicately, not allowed to push myself with daily chores when I was exhausted from the day-long trek, held tenderly, kissed sweetly. 

My confusion was outweighed only by my shame at having these traitorous feelings of affection for a man I knew had killed so many of my people. 

When we were finished eating, the warlord pulled me to my feet, and called me by that word I still hadn’t been able to translate. I turned to Ravi, who had only moved a few feet away to give us privacy, and asked him what it meant. He and the warlord exchanged a few words, and then the translator answered me with a smile. 

“It’s a term of endearment, War Prize. It means ‘little mate.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I hope you like reading about Amer & Geir as much as I love writing about them :)
> 
> Just a super random bit of info, but they sort of have a theme song (at least, I feel like it fits them really well?). Go give War of Hearts by Ruelle a listen while you’re reading. It was on repeat while I wrote this haha :)


	19. Sacred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War party finally reaches its destination— Geir’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 I seriously love your guys’ comments! It’s keeping me writing, I swear!! <3

AMER—

Three days we travelled across stretches of great grass plains, through thick forests, and over roaring rivers. When the first barbarian hunting party accosted us on the last legs of our second day, I was terrified. But once they saw who was travelling through their lands, we were met with hospitality and reverence. After that, there were many tribes that came out of seemingly nowhere, with nothing but dry grass all around us, to greet us and invite the warlord to meals. 

They showed respect and deference to the warlord, but their attitudes towards me varied greatly. Most showed me an awed sort of reverence, calling me War Prize with gentle touches to my knees— I was usually still mounted when these tribal parties came to greet us. Their touches were often fleeting and done with a glance of trepidation at the warlord. 

The ones who stared me down with barely concealed contempt were fewer, but they raised the hairs on the back of my neck. To my intense gratitude, those were never allowed anywhere near me. They were held back by both Briggs and the warlord, a few tense words were exchanged, and they left with a slight bow that seemed more meant to show disregard than respect. 

I was told not to bother with them by many of the soldiers around me, all seemingly trying to cheer me up, but the chill up my spine wouldn’t go away.

We reached our destination by late afternoon on the third day of travel. I was grateful beyond belief, because I didn’t know if my body could take anymore punishment. My thighs and buttocks were almost completely numb, and yet they also ached with an overwhelming fire. My skin was chapped and burned— I was not used to being in the blazing sun the way I had been, and no amount of oils and salves the warlord insisted on rubbing on me— platonically, I might add— each night helped with the red, parched skin. 

The place we stopped in would be called a hamlet by my people. In the middle of the great southern grasslands, there was a little oasis with a few trees, a lake, and a well nearby. Pitched and scattered around this were heavy fur tents, small wood cottages, and backed against a rock formation that hung heavy over the lake was a fairly small mansion— by the standards of an El’kahrian at least. As it was, it towered over the tents and tiny homes around it. It had maybe 20 rooms, a handful of bedrooms. I could see a garden on either side of the stone and mortar building, and a field of what could be wheat or barley growing steadily for acres off to one side. 

Despite the sizes of the homes, and that it was the size of El’kahr’s smallest towns, the hamlet was clean, well-kept, and the buildings and tents were of good quality. It was obvious that the people here wanted for nothing— especially as they began to pour out of their homes to greet their returning families. Their clothes were sturdy, well-made, stunning spun cloth and bright colors on the women, thin leathers on the men. And none looked starved, beaten down. These people ate well, had money to buy or make pretty things for their women. They lived well.

Another lie told to my people in a growing pile I was beginning to parse through. The people of Akar were supposed to be barbarians, living in squalor, without true civilization to govern them. War-hungry, viscous, and jealous of the wealth of El’kahr. These people, while living simpler than the nobles of El’kahr, looked wealthier, healthier, and happier than many of the people I knew in Veil. 

Their children ran freely underfoot, along with half a dozen dogs— many barefoot and half-naked— screaming and laughing playfully. The boys and girls alike were shirtless, some even pants-less, with only a small loincloth covering their groins. 

With the size of the warlord’s troops, I knew this place could be home to only a few of the men, but as the people reached them, they greeted them like old friends, like family. 

Their exuberance was contagious, and I found myself laughing along with them as a few soldiers dropped to their knees only to be tackled by messy-haired children. There were hugs, jubilance, and cheers shared freely. 

And then the warlord called something out, and everything fell silent. 

Waiting. Watching. All eyes on him. Except for the few that flickered momentarily on me before returning to their Warlord. 

“...my War Prize, Prince Amer of El’kahr,” he called out, although I didn’t understand the first few words, reaching over and pulling me in one smooth motion over onto his mount. Directly onto his lap. His hold on me was possessive, the same way he had held me twice before while showing me off for his people. And I realized that what I had thought before must be true: the hold was symbolic. Ritualistic, almost. 

His right hand wrapped around my chest and gently cupped my prick beneath my trousers. His left held my neck gently, but with enough force that I was forced to tilt my neck to the side for him. Completely at his mercy— compliant in his arms. 

The cheer that rose up among the townspeople, and the soldiers as well, deafened me for a good five minutes after. I wanted to clasp my hands to my ears, but the warlord held me still in his arms. I could barely breathe for the overwhelming emotions that seemed to wash over me, directly from the people around me. 

And the man at my back.

Reverence, joy, and relief from those around me. 

Possessive pride, gratitude, and unfiltered excitement, and glee from the man wrapped around me. 

He finally released me, jumped to the earth, and lifted me down to stand beside him. We made our way through the throngs hand-in-hand. We had dismounted on the outskirts of the town, so it took us almost an hour before we reached the mansion I guessed was the warlord’s home. As we moved away, I could see the soldiers we left behind setting up camp along the border of the town, although at least a dozen or so must have lived in the town, for they were led away by family and loved ones. 

Along the way, the warlord was stopped by countless men and women, hugged or kissed freely. Conversations were exchanged, although I understood only a handful of words over the steady hum of conversation around me. Unlike the warlord, who was handled as if he was common property, only a few brave people reached out to touch me. And when they did, it was usually a woman, and it was usually in reverence. Almost worship. 

As if I was sacred. 

The few times a man even looked as if he would reach for me, I was pulled into the warlord’s side and the man was met with a glare of utter hostility and sometimes even a deep-throated growl. They seemed to learn quickly, because there were only two attempts before I was given a wide berth. Even the women afterwards would seek the warlord’s approval before taking my hands or even brushing up against me. 

The children were another story. I was practically dragged to the earth, to the warlord’s amusement, and their parents’ horror, several times. I spent a few minutes letting myself be pawed, particularly my hair, which I could see was an anomaly to these dark-haired southern tribes. I listened to their excited chatter, each calling me War Prize with excited laughter. I tried to understand them, but I could only understand a handful of words from the adults, much less the children. Their words slurred together, their excitement and joy making them next to impossible to interpret. 

Each time, after a few minutes spent with little fingers dug into my scalp, little tongues wagging, and little bodies crawling all over me, I was gently lifted to my feet by the warlord and led on with a chuckled few words spoken to the children to appease them.

I think he said, “You’ll get your chance to spend time with the War Prize once I have,” but I only understood half the words, and the other half I guessed due to context. 

I had always learned languages quickly— I spoke 4 fluently— and Akari was proving no different. I was picking it up quickly. But I still felt hopelessly lost in the crowd of strangers who spoke an alien tongue. 

When we finally reached the mansion, I was led inside and the crowd outside dispersed back to where the soldiers were setting up camp amazingly quickly. The warlord continued to chuckle as he led me through a large, open entryway. There were a few townspeople— or maybe servants? I couldn’t tell, for they wore no uniform— standing around the entryway, who called out in greeting as we passed. But the warlord all but ignored them as he dragged me through a few halls until he opened a set of carved double doors and we pressed into a sizeable suite of rooms. 

The main room we first walked into was covered in warm fur rugs, gorgeously colored tapestries hung on the stone walls, the huge hearth lit with a roaring fire, as well as a double set of glass doors that opened onto the view of the lake to the side of the house. I barely glimpsed any of this before the warlord was pressing me against one of the piles of furs that littered the room— presumably sitting areas, like couches or chairs. I fell back with an unmanly yelp, and was soon overwhelmed head to foot in the warlord’s warmth as he covered my body with his.


	20. Sing to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geir gets distracted from what he should be doing.... ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubcon warning?? Amer is willing because he’s attracted to Geir, and he’s started to sort of understand that he’s not a slave, but stupid Geir still hasn’t really explained it to him fully. So he may still feel like he doesn’t have a chance to say no....
> 
> Also, enjoy the smut ;D (I’m seriously such a perv— I’m perving on my own characters haha)

GEIR—

I was expected to greet the tribal chiefs, whom I had been told had all been given a room in my home. They had all arrived the past couple of days, in preparation for my arrival and the official end of the war. Once I greeted them, I would announce my choice of War Prize, they would accept my choice, and we would celebrate the end of the war with the banquet my sisters had told me they had prepared for only a few hours from now. My War Prize would be presented then, and he would be accepted by my tribe as my mate. 

But I had held back from anything more than gentle touches and near-platonic kisses with my mate for almost 3 days. 

The tribal chiefs would understand my need to appease my mate, and lose myself in his body for an hour or so before I joined them. 

My restraint thus far had been admirable, if I do say so myself. The man was infuriating in his lack of guile and his pure abundance of sensuality. He had but to look up at me through his thick lashes, dark despite his sun-lightened blonde hair, and my cock twitched in interest, my chest tightening with affection for my little, sweet mate.

I undressed him as quickly as I could, pulling his shirt from him and throwing it to the side, followed shortly by his trousers. They were a little more difficult to get off, because he seemed a bit overwhelmed by my ardor, and I had to lift him bodily so I could pull them from his hips. 

I may have ripped them a bit. But in that moment, needing to feel his skin against my own, aching to be inside of him more and more with every breath, I simply tossed them aside and couldn’t care less. 

“I have to pay the tribal chiefs respect, so we must hurry,” I said once he was naked beneath me and I was untying my own trousers. His eyes watched me with heavy-lidded, guarded, reluctant arousal. “But I won’t hurt you, I promise. I will pleasure you more thoroughly later. For hours and days, I will learn the song of your pleasure, the lyrics of your body, but for now… give me this?”

His nod was immediate, but hesitant. And while I reveled in his easy submission, I also hated that he still felt any sort of hesitation towards my pleasuring his body. 

I moved my hands down his chest, steering clear of his nipples— although I could see they were healing nicely, with his twice daily application of the healing salve he brought with him, and the nightly application of the healing oils I used on his so tender, easily sunburned skin. When I cupped his prick, he arched up into my palm with a breathy little moan. 

I reached into my pocket, pulling out the small vial of oil I’d thought to pocket that morning, and as I opened it with one hand, my other reached further down from Amer’s prick to press gently against his pucker. He stiffened slightly, and then noticeably forced himself to relax. 

“Good, little mate,” I whispered, penetrating him quickly but gently. His sighs and soft hiccups of sound drove me on as I prepared his body for mine. “Open for me. Let me in, sweet mate.”

Within minutes he was moaning and bucking up into my palm, his legs wrapped around my waist pulling me towards him— unconsciously, I thought. When I managed to pry three fingers into his hole, plying the entrance and the walls of his canal with the oil, I knew he was ready. 

And I was out of patience. 

I pressed my cock against his opening, pushing in much more forcefully than I had our first time. He took me sweetly, his back arching as a cry spilled from his lips and his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please,” he murmured in Akari. “Please, Geir. Please, right there. Oh gods, right there. Feels…” He trailed off, unable to continue as I pulled out and thrust back in. 

“Good, sweet mate,” I whispered into his ear, laving my tongue along the tip, as I leaned over him and humped into him steadily, gently. “Sing to me in my tongue. Tell me of your pleasure, Amer.”

His cries grew louder as I sped up, needing release, to bury myself deep inside of him and leave the essence of myself so deep inside his body it would be there for hours. Days. 

He clutched at the back of my shirt, almost rending it with his fingernails. I grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand, the other reaching down to stroke his cock. I paused on the base, gently tugging at the pierced silver bar there, unsure how sensitive the old piercing was, and almost lost total control when he immediately came against his belly, calling out my name on a breathless stream. 

“Yes, mate. Come for me. Show me how my body makes yours feel.”

As his cries crescendoed, my own grunts of release began as I shot my cum deep into his body.


	21. Beginning to Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravi and Amer converse in Akari and Amer is finally beginning to understand the lies he was told.

AMER—

With as much of a whirlwind as he had dragged us into his suite of rooms, took his pleasure with my body, and again granted me with pleasure I never would have thought possible, or expected from my master as a slave, he laid his lips gently against my forehead, pried himself from my sweat-soaked body, redressed himself, — although he only had to straighten his shirt and tie up his laces— and then knelt back beside the pile of furs I was still lying prone on. While he had remained almost fully dressed, only pulling his cock out of his trousers to penetrate me, he had completely undressed me. Down to my socks. The dichotomy of our states of dress was somehow… arousing, as I lay prone below him. 

And despite still not really knowing my place in his life, or how my future would play out, that he had sought me out again pleased me. I had been so afraid I would be cast off once my compliance as War Prize was no longer needed. But his excitement and rushing through bringing himself pleasure with my body brought me hope he wanted me. Maybe not as I was finding I wanted him, but it was something. It had to be. 

“Amer,” he whispered gently, fingering my eyebrows, brushing strands of hair from my face. “Stay, alright? I’ll send Ravi in to teach you Akari. Alright?”

I nodded, excited at how many words I had understood, and that even with a few words I couldn’t place with confidence, the sentence had made sense. “Yes, Geir.”

His smile was almost blinding and he kissed me fiercely before disappearing out the double doors. 

I didn’t even hear them lock behind him. 

I stood on unsteady legs, feeling a little bow legged and stiff. Although he had been quicker, less methodically centered on learning every inch of my body like he had the first time, he had still taken the time to ensure I was ready for his body to invade mine. He had still given me pleasure to ensure his penetration was welcome, and hadn’t hurt me. But his cock wasn’t any smaller than it had been before, and I felt strangely empty. That was on top of the spend dripping down both my front and the backs of my legs.

I made my way over to the door deeper into the suite, and barely looked around as I then moved through the bedroom into an ensuite washroom. A large wash basin sat on one side, with a water pump just beside it. A handful of cloths were set beside the washbasin, and I wet one and had begun to clean myself up when I heard Ravi calling me from the outer sitting area. 

“I’m in the washroom. I’ll… I’ll be a moment,” I called out in half El’kahrian, half Akari. I didn’t know the word for washroom, or a measurement of time. But I knew I needed to try to use Akari more, or I would never learn the language of my new people. 

It was only as I thought on that, and finished cleaning myself up, blushing heavily as I noticed the many love bites on my neck and chest, even on my thighs and belly— I would really need to have a conversation with the warlord about propriety and not leaving visible marks of our pleasure— that I realized I was naked as the day I was born. 

And my clothes were thrown haphazardly around the sitting room. 

Just as the thought entered my mind, Ravi coughed politely and I could almost hear the blush in his voice when he called out to me again. 

“War Prize,” he murmured, from closer to the washroom. Of course he would be the one to find the proof of my and the warlord’s release. He was possibly the only Akaran I had ever seen blush. And he did it often. Especially when Briggs was around, although the much-older, war-weary man didn’t even seem to notice Ravi was there most of the time, the poor man. 

“I’ll leave your…” He coughed, clearing his throat, as his voice cracked. “Your clothes on the pallet out here, alright? I’ll be waiting in the front room.”

“Thank you, Ravi,” I replied in Akari, and his only response was a grunt. But when I saw the clothes, I could see where most of his embarrassment had come from. Somehow, the warlord had ripped my trousers so I didn’t know if I would even be able to tie them up properly. And the shirt had smears of pre-cum along the edges. 

I wanted to hide my face in my hands and never leave the room again. I would gladly live in the one room for the rest of my life if it meant I never had to face Ravi.

“War Prize,” he called, knocking on the door between the rooms. “The women just brought your bag, if you want to change out of your travel clothes.”

His tact and propriety was appreciated, and I was quick to sneak the door open, grab the bag from his arms, and dress in a clean shirt, trousers that weren’t torn, and a blue embroidered tunic. 

Once I joined Ravi, and we got past our mutual embarrassment, and I had opened the double doors that led directly out into a gorgeous garden I made a mental note to explore later— I could see various herbs I recognized, as well as many I didn’t that sent a spark into my curious mind— to air out the room, Ravi and I began to converse in Akari.

I spent most of my time in conversations with Ravi. It was how he had been teaching me Akari, since I had many words memorized, and the grammar rules were starting to make sense. Our “lessons” had been simple conversations. So when I messed up, or I didn’t know a word, Ravi could correct me or teach me a new word I could then memorize.

We spoke of random things— usually Akar culture, so I could learn of the warlord and his people while I learned his language. I learned many things in these conversations. 

I had learned that the warlord’s name was Geir. He had been having me call him by his given name, and that sent a shot of something I didn’t understand through my stomach. I learned that Ravi was half El’kahrian— his mother was from a small town in El’kahr, and his three fathers— yes, three fathers!— were born and raised in Akar. They, and Ravi with them until he married, lived in this small hamlet with the warlord. 

Ravi explained that the warlord was only called that during times of war. Once the war was declared officially over— which he said would happen that night during a banquet— he would go back to being just Geir, and many may still call him Warlord, but only out of respect for his great deeds. 

He also explained something I didn’t think I understood, and something my people had long misunderstood as well. 

When I asked him why I had been brought to what looked like the warlord’s personal suite, rather than a harem or slave quarters, he said the people of Akar didn’t have harems… or slaves. 

And for the first time, I was beginning to believe him. That I really wasn’t a slave, and that a War Prize was a name for something I just didn’t understand fully. The way I was treated, by Geir and the men of his war party, had proved to me again and again that they may not even understand the meaning of slavery. 

Ravi explained why the townspeople, and many of the hunting parties we had met had treated me the way they had. The good, and the bad. 

“As the chosen War Prize, you are seen as a sign of many years of peace ahead. You are our symbol of peace and prosperity, chosen by the warlord who brought us victory. Your health, happiness, and long life is a sign of a lasting, fulfilling peace. Your sacrifice, in giving up your former life, your homeland, to join with your new mate in Akar, is a symbol of the joining of our people, in peace. That sacrifice is meant to appease the dead on both sides. 

“That being said, there were a few tribes, the minority, mind you, that thought you and your father should have been killed to serve as a message of vengeance against those who would harm Akar or her people. They do not like that you were kept as War Prize. It is a great honor they don’t believe you deserve.”

And the last great revelation I had— for now at least— was when I asked about his multiple fathers. He explained that it wasn’t uncommon for large families to form from multiple pairings. And it wasn’t as if his three fathers were mated to only his mother. They were all mated to each other. 

“My father Garet first met and fell in love with my father Lorry. Then they met my mother Monsit, and the three of them were presented with my third father Venu when they were visiting a sister tribe. Venu was younger than them all by almost ten years, so they almost turned him down, but Monsit fell in love with him, and the others followed.”

“So you do not even know which is your father?” I asked, almost aghast at the thought. 

“With a few of my siblings, it’s easy to guess. My eldest sister has dark black hair like Lorry, so we know she is Lorry’s blood daughter. My little brother Dani has the same blue eyes as Venu, and so on. I favor our mother, so it’s quite unclear which is my blood father. But why would it matter? Knowing Lorry is her father doesn't make my sister any less Venu and Garet’s daughter.”

This… this I would have to study further, because according to Ravi, while it wasn’t the majority of families in Akar, it was fairly common to find more than two in a marriage— or mating, as he called them. Usually three or four, but he said he knew a few families that had upwards of six in a mating. 

“Does Geir— the warlord— have any mates?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably even to my own ears. 

Ravi looked at me for what felt a few minutes before he shook his head, frowning. 

“He has only you, War Prize,” he replied in a way that told me there was something I wasn’t understanding that he didn’t know how to make clearer. 

“Right,” I answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I’m seriously loving your comments, they bring me life I swear <3


	22. The Moonstone Tribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amer meets some of Geir’s tribe, and family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was all nervous to upload this chapter for some reason. Hopefully it’s not ‘cause it sucks & my subconscious is trying to tell me that :/

AMER—

It was at least a few hours before Ravi and I were interrupted. In that time, he had praised me how quickly I was picking up the Akaran language, and had even begun to teach me a few of the written characters of their language. 

I knew he had been left to babysit me, but he seemed to take great pleasure in the job. And he made me feel as if I was an equal to him, for which I was grateful. 

When a knock came at the great wooden doors, Ravi called out a greeting, and the doors opened to admit a gaggle of people. There were three women who stood side-by-side, flanked by two men and three women who looked to be carrying buckets of water, cloths, and soaps. 

Ravi stood immediately, making a sign of respect to the three women at the head of the group of people. And I wondered if he had lied to me for some reason. Because these women, if any, seemed like they could be part of the warlord’s harem. 

…. If they didn’t have such a striking familial resemblance to him. And one looked old enough to be his mother. 

_Oh, dear gods._

I stood hurriedly beside Ravi, trying to mimic his gesture, and was met with giggles from one of the two women at the older woman’s sides. 

The younger women could be twins, except one was heavily pregnant and had a sterner mouth and air about her than her giggling sister. They shared cocoa brown hair, hazelnut eyes, and dark, golden skin. Their mother— for of course she was their mother— had the same features, only she was older by more than twenty, maybe even thirty, years, — the women were in their 20s– and was far sterner in the mouth than either of the younger women. Her eyes held an age, a wisdom, that the other women could earn only with time. 

I was introduced as Geir’s War Prize, and I crossed my arms over my chest and bowed in answer. The sister who wasn’t pregnant laughed lightly again, mimicking my gesture back to me, and I was horrified. 

I had shown deference to them as the slave of their brother. And she had returned the gesture. 

The older woman snorted at my confusion, and then her commands began to flow from her lips and all was organized chaos. 

As the servants and the mother moved around and past me, the pregnant sister plopped down on one of the piles of furs and heaved out a sigh. 

I watched in fascination as the women and men— the ones I assumed were servants— began to fill their buckets from the washroom pump and pour them into the large porcelain tub I had barely noticed when I had been in there before. 

Once it was filled and the servants had left the room, the mother pressed something to the side of the tub, and tongues of flame underneath the tub leapt up and began to heat the water inside. 

I wanted very much to study this amazing invention, but I was distracted when the sister who wasn’t pregnant began to speak. 

“I am Abi, Warlord Geir’s sister,” she said, her words slow. She waited for Ravi to translate, but he explained quickly that, while I was still learning, I could understand enough he would only be needed if we hit a snag in communication. 

“Oh that is wonderful,” she crowed, smiling at me sweetly. I could see the physical resemblance between this bubbly woman and the warlord, but that was all. She seemed sweet, almost naive, and overly excited. “I’m so happy to meet you, Amer. I can call you Amer, yes?”

“Of course,” I answered quickly. 

“I am Chief Clara’s mate,” Abi finished, her chest bowing with pride, even though I really didn’t understand the significance. And wasn’t Clara a woman’s name? “She is tribal Chief of the Sungrass Tribe.”

“I am called Ani,” the pregnant woman said, her words much more sedated, her voice deeper. Now, her I could hear and see the familial resemblance to the warlord. “I am mate to Danika and Isle, who is Tribal Chief of the Winterbeech Tribe.”

“It’s a pleasure,” I said, only now realizing that the equivalent in my country of these two women were my sisters— princesses. Possibly even queens?

“The tall and stoic woman heating your bath,” Abi began, laughing when the older woman shot her a glare, “Is our mother, Hama of the Moonstone Tribe, mate to our father, Tribal Chief Grant. Your new tribe, little War Prize.”

I was more than a little overwhelmed by the influx of information, but Abi was quick to reassure me. She grabbed my hand with a smile and squeezed, leading me back towards Hama. 

The warlord’s mother. 

_Dear gods, let her like me. Let me not make a fool of myself,_ I prayed rabidly. 

The older woman looked me up and down, her gaze piercing, watchful, before she met my eyes and nodded. 

“Forgive my brusqueness, War Prize. We are in a bit of a hurry, as we only have an hour to prepare you for the banquet. It really is a pleasure to meet you, Amer of El’kahr. You must be something special to have caught the eye of my son. Forty years he has kept no one in his bed longer than a night. I am glad to see him finally choose a life mate.”

I frowned at her words, but was soon swept up by the next.

“Now, undress. We must bathe you, and prepare you. You must look your best, because it seems my son will move heaven and earth, and even hell, to make you officially his, so the least we can do is make you as beautiful as you can be.”

When I hesitated, my trousers were being yanked down my body, and Ravi was excusing himself, his face red and his eyes terrified. 

“I won’t tell my brother you may have caught a glimpse of his mate’s, ah, goods, Ravi!” Abi called after the translator, making me almost laugh. If I wasn’t being accosted by a woman 3 times my age. 

When I was naked and huddling against myself, trying to cover my embarrassment-shriveling prick with my hands, Hama pulled a lever and the fire underneath the bath turned off. I was so caught up in that, I barely noticed the women grabbing my arms and pulling me into the bath. I sat with relief, glad to be out of their sight, but the feeling was fleeting.

“Gods, you’re adorable. These little… they’re called piercings, yes? on your cock, and your nipples, and your— well, they’re everywhere, aren’t they? They’re sweet, but sort of sensual too. I love them. You make me want to surprise my mate with them— you think she would like my nipples with these piercings, War Prize?”

Hama finally smiled, almost reluctantly, and Abi chuckled at the almost-grimace. And probably at my horrified look as well. 

“You don’t think so, Mama?” 

“I think you could blacken your teeth, cut all your hair off, and gain 300 pounds and that woman would still be completely infatuated with you, daughter,” Hama replied as she moved to sit on a stool behind me. 

“How long have you known our language, War Prize?” Hama asked as she began to wash my hair, Abi moving to bring a cloth to my chest. When I tried to grab it from her, to do it myself, she slapped my hand gently and continued on as if I hadn’t protested. 

“I learn grammar rules, and some, ah,” I almost whimpered when Abi rubbed the soaped cloth against my inner thigh. 

“It’s alright, War Prize. This is Akaran tradition. Tonight, you mate my brother, and so the women of the family bathe you. I may be mated to a female, but yours is not the first prick I’ve seen. Or touched.”

I wanted to cry in embarrassment, but I held back and bit my lip. And Abi’s now-familiar chuckle carried me into finishing what I had been saying to Hama. As the warlord’s sister washed my cock and balls, then moved to my legs and feet. 

“I began teach self when war begin, but only learn basics of grammar and common phrase. El’kahr doesn’t have much books on Akar. So I’ve been learn as much as I can. I sorry if I get anything wrong…”

“Your Akari is almost better than mine, except for your pronunciation, War Prize,” Abi answered with a scoff. “And you’re saying you’ve only been learning for… a week at most?”

“Well, more than year— “

“— Right, but you only knew the basics until a week ago?” Abi cut in. 

“Yes,” I replied, blushing as both of the women froze and Hama moved until she was in front of me. Luckily, she had rinsed my hair, so I wasn’t stuck with suds dripping into my eyes as they both stared down at me. 

“How is that possible?” Hama asked, completely serious and curious. 

I shrugged. “I’ve always been good with... languages. I like learn. I’m not much with sword, but I know 4 language, not including El’kahrian, now 5 with Akari, I can say _the Rules of Delen’gar by heart_ , and I know _the seven ways to enter the cater of Esl’slaw_. I not… I’m not warrior. But I not…” I paused, ashamed at how my voice broke. Some of the words I had been forced to recite in El’kahrian, but I could see they still understood me. My shame came from trying to justify my own pathetic existence. I could practically hear my father’s voice in my ear, laughing at me. Calling me worthless. Useless. 

Weak. 

“So your body is small, delicate the way even most of our women aren’t,” Hama began steadily. “And you’re more beautiful than most of them as well. You’re more comfortable in a library than a battlefield, but your mind works much faster than normal. So fast, in fact, that you can all but pick up a new language in less than a week, with only a few errors that will be corrected with time and practice.”

I nodded at her assessment, and waited for them to laugh. Scoff at me. Deny that I could be anything, even slave, to their family. 

And then Hama’s hand was on my chin, lifting me to meet her eyes. “My son has chosen well in his mate, and War Prize. Our tribe, and our people, have plenty of warriors. But humble scholars who are more beautiful than a god’s consort— that, we are sore lacking. You are welcome in this tribe, War Prize. And in this family.”

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until the woman wiped the tears from my eyes, then pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. Which pushed me even further into sobs. 

“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my eyes furiously, trying to stem the tears. “I don’t know what wrong with me. I just—”

“You’re in a new home, a new life, you know no one, everything is new, and you didn’t have much of a choice being here,” Abi cut in, a soft smile on her face as she too reached over and rubbed tears from my cheeks.

Gods, these Akarans liked their physical shows of affection.

“If it’s anything besides those things, like my brother has done something to make you cry, I’ll cut off his prick myself,” Ani called from the doorway. I hadn’t even known she was there, sitting on a stool, rubbing her belly. 

I laughed, but shook my head. “He’s been… so kind. I thought… I didn’t know. Well, they tried tell me, but I... I thought—” 

Everything from the past few days came rushing back, as I finally fully understood and accepted the lie my father and his advisors had told. Every kind touch, every kiss, the way Geir held me to his body, but didn’t penetrate me after that first time— which I guessed to be a ceremonial, necessary claiming, with the way he proclaimed it to so many witnesses— so I wouldn’t be sore as we travelled. 

He had been courting me. And I had been prostrating myself as a slave, hating him for taking me from my home, enslaving me. 

I wasn’t a slave. I was a tribute, yes, but a _marriage_ tribute. An arranged marriage for peace. I would be the warlord’s husband— his mate. 

The Akarans wanted only peace. And I could bring that to them by mating— marrying— their warlord. That was my choice, my duty, as War Prize. My life, for peace. But not giving up my life, as I had been told. No. Only giving up the life I had known for another. Giving up all I knew, for something different. 

It would hardly be a sacrifice, if he continued to treat me the way he had the past few days in the future. It would hardly be a sacrifice, with the way I had already begun to fall for him, but had been too afraid to acknowledge how I felt. I had been attracted to him from the moment I saw him, had begun to feel affection and more for him with each day. With each action that showed me he cared for me, with each touch, each kiss. But every time I had felt these things, I had pushed them back. Terrified that I was being idiotic, as a slave, to fall for the man who kept me prisoner. Now, I could embrace those feelings, and see where my future led with Geir by my side. I could see what my new life, my life I had gained by sacrificing up the old, had in store for me. 

I could spend my life in Geir’s arms, warm, and safe, and… loved…? 

The way my thoughts had gone made me blush even deeper, and I looked up and met Hama’s eyes. 

“There many… umm, cultural difference and misunderstanding I will have to overcome, it seem. But I be honor to join you family, Hama of Moonstone Tribe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 umm so if you like Abi, I’ve got a sort of prequel bonus story of her meeting her mate Clara & “convincing” (aka terrorizing) Clara to fall in love with her. Let me know if you would like to see that, and I’ll maybe upload it soon :):)


	23. Mating Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What say you, brothers?

GEIR—

When I first caught a glimpse of Amer, moving towards me from the crowd of my men and some of their families, I couldn’t help the groan that rose to my throat. He wore the flowing robes of a mating, in my tribal colors of red and silver, and they flowed around his slim body like water. His torso was bare, showing off the sparkling nipple rings, dangling belly ring I had the sudden, but frequent and familiar, urge to chew on, and his soft, pale stomach. 

His golden hair was tied up and back with various braids, in a similar style to the one he had worn when he had been presented to me in El’kahr. His feet were bare, covered in silver dangles, and the precious jewels woven in his hair sparkled in the crackling light of the bonfire. 

I felt a sweep of gratitude pour through me when I saw my Mama, Ami, and Abi backing my little mate. Their show of support, along with his wearing my tribal colors, was an obvious message to any who saw. 

My family— my tribe— backed my choice of War Prize and mate. 

When Amer reached me, the smile on his face made me take a step back. There was something… shifted in the way he looked up at me. He was just a little less guarded, his eyes just a little less hostile, and his smile far more genuine than any I had seen him show. Except those little smiles I caught him forming in his sleep as he cuddled up against my side, and the sated smirks I knew he didn’t even realize he was showing after I had pleasured him thoroughly. 

Clara, Ami’s mate and the Tribal Chief of the nearest tribe to my own, took a deep breath and met my eyes. Then she nodded and I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms. 

She had agreed with Ember of the Starwind Tribe and Lister of the Deercat Tribe. They believed that we had been too easy on the El’kahrians. That we should have killed their king, and his son, and taken one of the daughters as War Prize. 

I had argued that enough blood had been shed, and they could hurt my prince over my dead body. I would take as many down with me as I could, in protection of my mate. 

Not that that would be necessary, but my passion and fervor seemed to carry the message to them that I would hear nothing evil against my mate.

It wasn’t as if they had a say in who I chose as War Prize, or that it would really come to bloodshed. They had chosen me as Warlord, and they would abide by my decision. Their dissent was merely to show their opinion, as was their right, and nothing more. They would accept, or they wouldn’t. It was really only about letting me and the others know their opinion. 

And Clara had agreed with Ember and Lister. But I knew she had been wary of voicing her opinion too strongly, because my sister, her mate, was very close to her sisters and my mother. It would hurt her if Clara went against me. 

For this reason, as she saw how my sister had accepted my mate as her brother, she had no choice but to give our mating her blessing. 

So I had the support of my own tribe, Clara’s, and I knew Ami’s mate Isle would back me. The other three tribes— besides Ember and Lister’s— had already given me their support. 

If only the two tribes Ember and Lister headed declined blessings, I was happy to ignore the two dissenters. They meant nothing in the face of the joy I felt at seeing my mate step up to me and tilt his face to mine. 

“Asking for a kiss, my sweet mate?” 

“Yes, please,” he answered simply, with an adorable, shy smile on his lips. 

I was a little taken aback— was he flirting back?— but I obediently dipped down and touched my lips to his. His usual hesitation seemed to have faded, for he pressed against my mouth with his own, his hands coming up to steady himself by my shoulders. 

“You look beautiful, little mate,” I said as I pulled away, fingering one of the nipple piercings that constantly tempted me. He shivered and his body jerked as both nipples perked up and his breaths came in fast. His quick arousal was almost amusing, but I knew my mate disliked being intimate in front of others. So I backed off, pressing my hands against his hips and pulling him around to my side. 

It was time. 

I pitched my voice high, glad that the crowd around us had gone quiet as they watched me and my War Prize greet each other. 

“I claim as my own, my life mate and my partner, Amer Groban, Prince of El’kahr. And I ask the Tribal Chiefs of Akar to accept my mate as War Prize for the end of the War with El’kahr— a sign of ongoing peace and plenty. What say you, brothers?”

Each tribal chief, in a circle around me, proclaimed their approval. Like I had thought, both Ember and Lister denied Amer as War Prize. But their dissent was all but ignored as a great cheer rose up around me and Amer, and I pulled him up against me. 

And to my great surprise, he not only submitted to my pulling him up against me, he wrapped his scantily-clad legs around my waist, his arms around my neck, and pressed his forehead against my own. 

“This… good thing, yes? They accept me?”

Not for the first time, I was shocked by how quickly he had picked up Akari, but I had a feeling my mate would continue to give me surprises for our entire life together.

“They accept you, little mate. How could they not?”

His rolled eyes in annoyance was a little more familiar to me, and I chuckled as I let him back to his feet, so we could greet the tribal chiefs who approached to be introduced to my mate. I didn’t release him without cupping his asscheeks in my hands and squeezing gently, wanting nothing more than to drag him from the bonfire and into my bed chambers so I could show his body how I had been holding myself back. 

His glance up at me, rather than annoyed at the touch, was thoughtful and… aroused. 

Dear gods, he wanted me too. And it was more than a reluctant attraction, and submission as War Prize. He felt pleasure at my touch, and wanted it for himself. 

What had my sisters and Mama said to him? He had never been rebellious, had submitted to me sweetly over and over, each time I presented him to my people, each time I touched him, held him, kissed him, but there had always been a wall he kept up between us. Even as he submitted his body to me, he had kept a part of himself closed off. 

And I was finally seeing glimpses of that part— was experiencing it. 

And gods, I wanted to taste it. To revel in it. To find out what true, whole, and complete submission from my mate would feel like. 

My Pa was first to be introduced, and Amer’s flustered stuttering was endearing. So much so, my Mama leaned forward and placed a finger against his lips. 

“Silence, young one. Breathe. This is your mating day— a day of celebration and love. Don’t be so nervous.”

His glance up at me at the words was searching, curious, but then he was facing my Mama again and nodding. 

“I’m sorry, Hama. You’re right.”

My Mama smiled and turned to look me over as well. “You chose well, son,” she said before cupping my cheeks and pulling me down so she could lay a kiss on both. She turned to Amer to do the same to him, leaving him slightly dazed. “Live long in peace and love, boys.”

Another glance up at me, and I wanted to ask him why he seemed so confused, searching. What he wanted to ask of me. 

But I didn’t get the chance. Clara stepped forward to introduce herself, with Abi clinging to her as always, and for the next few hours he was in my arms, but I could barely say a word to him. At some point, Ami’s mate Danika brought us a plate of food to share, but we could barely eat it with the crowds around us demanding our constant attention. 

Within a few hours, I could feel my mate lagging, his body pressing into me more and more, and I excused myself and my mate and pulled away, all but carrying him with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of Abi & Clara’s story— Untamed— is up now. Check it out, let me know what you think <3


	24. Refreshing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear gods, I hadn’t understood anything. I had been so misled, so deceived. And I had believed every godsdamned word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summaries are getting worse lol

AMER—

Hama, Ami, and Abi had explained the mating ceremony, and the acceptance of the tribal chiefs. Though it wouldn’t deter Geir’s decision in the least, they said, having the approval of at least the majority of the tribes was important for inter-tribal relations. Especially since he would be Tribal Chief of the Moonstone Tribe when his father gave up his position. Which, I was told, as I stood in a dumb stupor at the news, would be within a few years. His father had only held off as long as he had because of Geir’s lack of mate, and then the war. Now that he had me, they said, they would give us a sort of honeymoon period, and then within a year or two Geir would be given the title of Chief. 

Dear gods, I hadn’t understood anything. I had been so misled, so deceived. And I had believed every godsdamned word. 

When I entered the clearing, where there was a bonfire, and what looked to be dozens, if not hundreds, of rastbans set up, with hundreds of men and women eating, laughing, celebrating around them, my eyes were immediately drawn to Geir. 

He was taller than even most of the Akarans, who were far from short, and his bulk stood out even among them. His eyes shone with an aroused heat when our eyes met, and then there was a bit of surprise, and finally, as he looked behind me to his mother and sisters, flanking me in what I knew was a show of support for his choice— for me— his eyes returned to me with a smile I wanted to reach out and grab. Hold up against the dark to shine my way to him. 

It was a strange thought, but I allowed it the way I hadn’t been allowing myself many of the thoughts, feelings, I had about him. I had been repressing everything, for fear that my feelings would never, could never be returned. For fear of the man I had been told he was. 

But now… now I allowed myself a small bit of hope that the future I had thought ripped from me the moment he had called out my name in my father’s courtyard, was actually still alive. In his arms. 

When he flirted with me, in the way he had so many times before, and I returned the flirtation, he seemed a bit taken aback, and then his smile lit up his face again and I couldn’t help the way I blushed and dipped my head away from him. 

It was almost two hours before we were able to talk again, as I was practically tossed from person to person, being introduced to each of the tribal chiefs, their mates— one of them had 3 mates, so 4 in their family total— and even some of their children. I tried my best to remember names and faces, although Geir assured me no one would find offense if I couldn't remember each of them. 

Many of the people I met remarked on my Akari, and I refrained from saying I hadn’t known it hardly at all before the war party came into Veil. Geir seemed to sense my unwillingness to be even more the center of attention, so he stopped bringing attention to it as well. He simply held me against him, my back to his chest, as he dipped his face into my hair. 

“My sweet, shy mate. Why do you wish to hide your intelligence and skill?”

I couldn’t explain, so I didn’t try. I only shrugged back against him and tilted my head to give him access to my neck. His soft growl against my skin was followed by his lips making their way down my head and to my neck. He gently pressed his teeth against the same spot he tended to favor, right on the junction between my neck and shoulder, sending a sharp jolt down my spine and directly into my belly. His hands slowly rose up, across my belly, to cup my nipples in each palm, and the barely-healed piercings ached as he pressed against them. 

His hard cock digging against my lower back, he lifted his mouth to my ear, licking it sweetly before I could feel him smile against my skin. 

“Gods, I can’t wait to get you back to my room. Into my bed. The things I’m going to do to this body…”

My whimper was drowned out by a sharp laugh just to my left. We turned as one, and were met by Geir’s mother and father, who held their hands clasped together as if they were teenagers just discovering love, rather than mates who had been together for upwards of 40 years. I could feel heat light my face hotter than the flame we stood beside, and Geir joined in the laughter his mother and father were bellowing out. 

“It’s good to see the War Prize is happy with his new… position,” Danika, one of Ami’s mates, muttered from a little ways further back. She held Ami back against her, supporting the heavily-pregnant woman as she ate. Her hands rose up and down Ami’s stomach, protectively clutching the large belly in her palms. 

Her pointed glance down at my groin, where the flimsy cottons and silks Geir’s family had dressed me in were doing nothing to hide my arousal, wasn’t lost on any of those around me, and I cried out, turning into Geir’s arms and digging my face into his chest. His chuckles rose up from deep in his stomach, and I could feel his entire body vibrating against mine. I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the dirt, but his strong arms around me wouldn’t let me do more than dig myself as far into his body as I could. 

I had completely forgotten that we were surrounded by Geir’s family, and hundreds of strangers, and let him play my body like an instrument. I hadn’t even noticed I had fallen against his body so readily. 

“Oh gods,” I mumbled, when Geir pressed a gentle kiss against the top of my head. “I’m sorry.”

His chuckling cut off, and he was pulling me away enough to look down at my undoubtedly blood red face. I had a hard time meeting his eyes, but his thick, calloused fingers against my chin, lifting me to meet them, solved that. 

“Never apologize for your body’s submission to mine, little mate. It’s nothing less than beautiful.”

I still didn’t understand when they used the word submission when talking about me, since in El’kahr you submit only to those higher in status than you, or if you are a slave. But they seemed to mean it in another way. A way that sent gooseflesh up my arms and tightened my chest. 

“Yes, Geir,” I answered, knowing I had pleased him when his smile returned and he flipped me back around to face… Dear gods, his entire family. Minus a few children I knew were probably getting underfoot somewhere among the crowds around us. 

I met Hama’s eyes with flushing cheeks, but her smile made me relax just a little more back into Geir’s arms. Danika pushed two plates of food, stacked high, at us, then shoved a lock of black hair out of her eyes and studied me. 

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, War Prize. You are a sensitive little thing, aren't you?”

I bit my lip, holding back an irritated retort that sat heavy on my tongue, but I could feel Geir’s barely concealed laughter against my back. 

“Aren’t his blushes stunning? His shyness, so different from our tribes, is… refreshing.”

The words startled me, and I looked up into Abi’s mate Clara’s eyes. She watched me with a smile that was soft on a face I could see was normally hard as stone. Her arm, as I had come to know was normal for the couple, was wrapped around the much smaller Abi’s waist. The younger woman stared up at her mate with barely concealed heat and passion. Her hips rocked up against the older woman’s thigh, and Clara turned away from me to meet her mate’s eyes. 

I had never even heard of a relationship between women, but their passion was so visible on their faces I could feel my cheeks heating even further as I tried not to stare at the way Abi wrapped one leg around Clara’s thighs, practically straddling her, as she dragged Clara’s mouth down to her own. 

“Clara was against my choice of War Prize,” Geir whispered in my ear, so only I could hear his words. “She backed my decision only because of Abi’s love for our family, but she was still reluctant. And you have managed to win her over with a dozen words and simply being yourself. You have magic in your soul, sweet mate. I’m so lucky to have found you.”


	25. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chief Jacob and his mate request a word with the War Prize.

AMER—

Another few hours passed in the same way, with my cheeks very rarely returning to normal from their flushed red state. I was teased mercilessly, but it was with a familiar sort of affection I enjoyed and tried to soak up. It was the way Mem and I teased each other, the way we teased Hestiel. There was a strong difference between this sort of affectionate joking and the harsh, hateful way my father tormented me. 

It made me miss my sisters with a fierce sort of pain, and I wished they were there to see me happy. Healthy. Safe. 

I was also never let out of touching distance from Geir. Even when I was dragged somewhere else, by Abi or one of the children, to be introduced to someone or to be shown a shiny bit of coal— it was Abi showing me the coal, not the children— Geir was at my back, his fingers entwined with mine, his palm against my lower back, or his arm wrapped around my body completely. 

There was a safety I found in Geir’s arms that made it almost easy to meet even the two Tribal Chiefs who had denied me as War Prize. And they were nothing if not cordial. They smiled, introduced themselves, and made no indication they were anything but pleased to meet me. 

Geir was attentive, as well. He made me eat the entire plate Danika had brought to me, only satisfied when I groaned at the fullness in my stomach. He dragged me down to sit in his lap when I began to lean more heavily against him as tiredness began to drag my limbs down. And he was quick to pick me back up and begin to excuse us when my head began to dip and jerk, sleep overtaking me involuntarily. 

I mumbled a few arguments, telling him I could stay longer, not wanting to disappoint him and force him to leave the party in his honor early, but he only shushed me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before pulling me up against his side and announcing our departure. By that time, we were mostly surrounded by only his family, as family groups, centered around smaller campfires, had begun to form an hour or so before. Only a few people still moved from group to group. Most lay in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of the fires, conversations steady and thrumming around me. 

Hama and her mate were all but asleep in each other’s arms, lying back against a large boulder. Ami, Danika, and Chief Isle were bundled together, with Ami leaning back against Isle, and Danika lying with her head in Ami’s lap and her body pressed along Isle’s. Abi and Clara had been gone for over an hour and had only just returned a few minutes before, Clara smiling sweetly and Abi’s hair and clothes ruffled and natted. When Abi leaned forward to sit near me, I pulled myself forward from Geir’s arms to pluck a leaf from her hair. Her spark of laughter was mimicked by the entire family around us, and I joined in when Clara plucked the leaf from my fingers and put it gently behind Abi’s ear. As if it was a flower she was giving to her lover.

Just as Geir and I had reached the next family group, stepping out of our own, a hand, calloused with work, grabbed my arm and I instinctively yanked away. Geir’s growl of warning forced the man who had grabbed me back, but then I saw Jacob, one of the other Tribal Chiefs, pull the man into his arms in defense against Geir, so I pulled on Geir’s arm to try to calm him.

“Your mate assumes much, Jacob,” Geir all but growled, holding me almost painfully tight against him. 

“I’m sorry,” the young man whispered, shaking his head and prying himself from his own mate’s arms. Jacob was older than Geir by at least 10 years, and since the man who had grabbed my arm was my age, or possibly even younger, I was surprised they were mates. And if I remembered from their introductions, it was only the two of them in their mating. But I couldn’t for the life of me remember his name. 

Jacob was tall and broad, just a bit taller than Geir, but Geir outweighed him by 50 pounds at least. For he was broad, but he had none of Geir’s bulk. He was 50-years-old, maybe a few years older, and his black hair was only slightly fading to gray and white around his ears. He was clean-shaven, and the wrinkles on his face, around his lips and eyes, showed only that he had lived a good life. His eyes, now tense and strained, had sparkled with affection and light when he had earlier introduced his mate to me. They had been newly mated, I was told, only a few years before. Just before the war. 

The young man was short for an Akaran, which of course meant he was still a half-head taller than me. He was slim and had a soft, angular face. The lines of his brow, and the tilt of his eyes, made me think he had another bloodline flowing through him than only Akaran. 

The strangest thing was, he looked… just a bit familiar. I had thought so when he had first been introduced to me, but I couldn’t place him. 

“I didn’t mean… War Prize, I meant no offense. I’ve been wanting to… I wanted to talk to you, but I’ve been afraid…” 

Jacob turned the younger man towards him, his set face stern. “You should not have touched the War Prize without his or his mate’s permission, Sriny’ete,” he scolded, and then he turned to Geir and made an apologetic motion with his hand, holding the younger man against his hip. 

“I will speak more with my mate—” 

“— Please,” I cut in, holding my hand up to try to calm the men around me. Gods, these Akarans took their matings seriously. The poor man would be punished in some way because he had grabbed my arm? It hadn’t even hurt, I had only been startled. “It alright. I’m not hurt. You say you need… talk me?”

I felt Geir nod when Jacob turned to him for permission, and only then did he lessen his hold on Sriny’ete. 

“War Prize, Warlord Geir, may we… May we please talk in private?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	26. Sriny’ete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You were enough.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

AMER—

Geir led me, Jacob, and Sriny’ete through the groups of families, past many that called out to us to bid us goodnight, and back into his home. Geir pulled my hand into a small room off the main hall, where there were a half dozen piles of furs, surrounded by warm rugs and tapestries, circling a merrily crackling hearth fire. 

“My mate is exhausted— it’s been a very long day, for him and for me,” Geir began as he sat on one of the furs closest to the fire. He easily settled me into his lap, his fingers rubbing against my hips soothingly. “I would appreciate if you kept whatever you need to say short. I can imagine, with what I know of your past, what you have to say. And I won’t keep you from saying it, for that is your right. But my mate is not here in Akar to atone for the sins of his people, and he is my War Prize and mate. So be sure to keep those things in mind as you speak.”

“Yes, Warlord,” Sriny’ete mumbled as he and his mate copied my and Geir’s stances. I could see Sriny’ete’s hands trembling so violently Jacob gripped his fingers between his own and pulled them to his lips. 

“Say what you need to say, _arayna_ ,” Jacob mumbled against the younger man’s fingers. I didn’t recognize the word he used as an endearment for Sriny’ete, but it seemed to calm him immensely to feel that his mate was behind him, holding him. 

Sriny’ete met my eyes, his own filled with a slight fear, and hesitation. 

“I fear the warlord has misinterpreted what I mean to say today. I don’t know… I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning is usually good place,” I said, as gently as I could. The man seemed at a loss for a moment before a smile broke out over his face and he chuckled and shook his head. 

“You have changed not at all, Your Highness,” he said, in perfect El’kahrian, drawing a gasp from me. But neither his mate nor Geir seemed surprised in the least. “But I must have changed much,” he finished in Akari, “for you to not recognize me at all.”

“You do seem… familiar to me,” I whispered in Akari. “But I… I’m sorry.”

The man shrugged and leaned more easily back into his mate’s chest. “I understand. It has been many years. Almost five, I believe, since you set me free.”

At those words, even his mate gasped. Geir sat up a bit straighter, and his hands, stroking me gently before, stilled. 

And in that moment, everything came rushing back and I wanted to cry out and yank him into my arms. He had been much younger, a bit shorter, so skinny I could count each rib that poked through his skin, and he had been naked but for a loincloth. So I knew now what scars his robes hid. 

What horrors he had endured before he came into my employ. 

“Oh dear gods,” I hissed in my mother tongue. “... Sirin?”

Sriny’ete smiled and nodded, his fingers looping with his mate’s as he seemed to be calming by the moment. 

“I had been afraid… you were young then— barely 15 summers. Time can change men, but it seems not you, and I’m glad.”

“ _Arayna_ , explain. Now please,” Jacob said stiffly from behind Sriny’ete. The younger man patted his mate’s hand before taking a deep breath. 

“When I was 6 summers, my family was traveling to visit a sister tribe and we were attacked by an El’kahrian slave caravan. My family— my mothers and fathers— were killed, for they fought to protect me. I almost got away, but I was caught and sold to… Lord Butcger Wolfe, counselor to King Groban.”

My flinch was heavy, and I could feel Geir’s body stiffen against mine. I would have pulled myself from his arms, but he seemed to expect the move and pulled me tighter against his chest. 

“The sins of your people are not yours to carry,” he whispered in my ear. 

“The warlord is right,” Sriny’ete said gently. “I’m not telling you this to upset you. I want to… let me finish, alright? There are things even my mate knows not, and I want… I need to finish.” 

I nodded, and Sriny’ete nodded before continuing. 

“From the look on your face, I can tell you know of Butcger’s reputation, so I will explain for Warlord Geir, who is the only one who doesn’t understand the significance of that name. Butcger kept many children as sex slaves, and his favorites were boys. Very young boys. That’s all I’ll say for my years with him, but I’m sure you understand the kinds of things I and the others endured.

“He kept me much longer than he kept any others, and he only sold me when I was 17– most of the others he sold by 13. I was brought to Veil, the capital of El’kahr, to be processed by a man they call Denbar the Cruel. He would take slaves in, train them if need be, and perform any… alterations they may need. I was to be pierced and gelded for a new master.” 

While I could see Jacob tense a bit, I could see none of this was new information to him. But Geir’s heaving breaths against my back shook me. 

“This Denbar, he is the same as the one who almost cut you, mate?” Geir hissed against my skin. I nodded, and tried to ignore the pitying look in Sriny’ete’s eyes. 

“He did not succeed with me, either,” Sriny’ete finished. “I’m unsure how you were able to escape from that terrible fate, but my angel was you, Prince Amer.”

Geir’s grip on my body lessened just a bit as he breathed out heavily, and Jacob’s eyes flashed to mine. 

“I knew only that my mate was freed by a noble of El’kahr. I didn’t know it was you, War Prize.” 

“I’m only ashamed I didn’t ban the practice years before. You were the last Denbar touched in that way… or, almost touched, I suppose.”

“Until you?” Jacob clarified. 

“... Until me,” I answered. “But I protected by Briggs— he didn’t understand what was happen, but I call to him and he stop them.”

“Why would—“ Sriny’ete began, but he cut himself off. “It matters not. I need to finish.”

He took a deep breath, his mate’s presence at his back giving him strength, as he continued. 

“You stepped in just in time to save me, for I know with surety that I would not have survived being gelded. If I had not died from the blood loss, I would have ended my life. After everything… I would not have continued to fight, to live, anymore. But not only did you keep me from that horrible fate, you then freed me and gave me provisions to get home. I only learned later the punishments inflicted on you when Denbar informed your father of what you had done.”

“You were be sold for big price. I lost Butcger much of money. But I knew what I did. I regret not.”

“Yes. You saved my life, and I was able to return to my home and find my mate. I owe you my life, and my current happiness. And I wanted to be sure you knew that, because I know I can’t be the only one you helped while you were under your father’s cruel thumb, and I want you to know: we saw you. All you saved, all you fed in their hunger, all those you gave a warm hand up to. You did not suffer in vain.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying until Geir was covering my body with his, tucking my face back against his neck. 

“There was so much cruelty,” I sobbed in El’kahrian, unable to form the words of my heart in Akari. “It was all I could do… it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.” 

“Your Highness, it _was_ enough,” Sriny’ete answered in Akari. “You were enough. Your people loved you. I’m sure they still do. The things you did, to alleviate the cruelty of your father and the men he surrounded himself with. They felt small to you, maybe. But to a boy who had all but given up, you were everything. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I think I’ll write Jacob & Sriny’ete’s story if ya’ll wanna read it :) let me know!!


	27. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I forgive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven’t gotten any better at chapter summaries  
>  ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

GEIR—

My little mate’s soft, hiccuping sobs against my neck tore at something inside of me. I had held off on asking my mate about his father, about any retribution I needed to mete out to the man who had so obviously caused my mate intense distress. But now that I was no longer Warlord, I was free to bring about a reckoning on the man he wouldn’t survive. 

But first I needed to calm my mate, give him rest, and then we would learn more of each other, and he would tell me what my next move was to be. If we would return to El’kahr after our mating period was over, or if there was something else he desired. 

For I was at his beck and call— whatever my mate decided his father’s fate was, that’s what it would be. 

I would also be conversing with Jacob as to what he and Sriny’ete required the fate of that monster who harmed children to be. For a quick stop to end his life, slowly and oh-so-painfully, would be nothing on the way back to El’kahr to deal with Amer’s… sire. 

With a nod to both Jacob and his mate, I pulled Amer up into my arms and moved down the hall to our bedchamber. His cries had quieted, but he shivered in my arms despite the warmth in the air.

He remained limp as I undressed myself, and then him, before lying down and pulling him into my arms. 

“When I first heard your name, I thought you a coward,” I whispered into his ear, tightening my hold on him when he stiffened just a bit at my words. “A spoiled princeling who hid behind his people and let them die in his name, in vain, for his and his father’s greed. When I met you, those assumptions were proven wrong. And each day I’ve known you, little mate, you’ve proven again and again the strength of your spirit and the resilience of your honor. 

“I am the luckiest man in Akar and any of the surrounding lands, to have you for my mate. Tonight, we rest, for although it is our mating night, the events of the night have exhausted me, and I’m sure they have you as well. We will spend the next week learning each other’s minds, souls, and bodies, and once our mating period is over, we will decide what to do about the evil men we left behind in the land of your birth.”

Amer was quiet for a few minutes, his breathing evening out, his tears drying. Just when I thought he had fallen to sleep, when his heavy breaths were even, he spoke. 

“Before I meet you,” he began, his words no more than a whisper spoken through a sore throat and dry lips. “I think you are monster. Evil, war hungry barbarian. When I meet you, I think you a cruel man who choose my father son only to humiliate him by force his only son to slave, to degrade me and teach my father lesson. Even as you show me, every day, with way you hold me, touch me, treat me respect, I still been tell something that the opposite of how you made me feel.”

“That you were my slave,” I said when he seemed to be finding his words and might hesitate in continuing. 

“Ravi tell me, your actions tell me, my heart tell me… but still, I afraid to let self feel anything but hatred for you… Geir, why you not…? Why you not try explain me, the truth?”

My thoughts were frazzled, unsure how to answer my mate. I had explained my actions to Ravi, to a few of my captains, but somehow… had I somehow left my mate, the most important to me, out of my mind? Had I never told him, really explained to him, what he was to me? 

How was that possible…?

“I had thought, at first, you wouldn’t believe me anyways, so I didn’t see the point— that you would figure it out with time, as you have,” I began, thinking back on all the times my mate had submitted to me, but kept himself back in spirit. Had I not seen his pain? Had I been blind to his fear? Had I hurt him, and I hadn’t even noticed? Dear gods, I prayed I hadn’t done any irrevocable damage to my mate. “I can see now that I made a mistake. I should have tried to explain to you, so even if you didn’t believe me, you would be aware fully of everything.

“I am sorry, little mate. I hope my actions… I hope my mistake has not hurt you too badly. I hope that I—“

“— You should have tell me,” my brave mate whispered, little sobs hitching his throat. “I wouldn’t have believe you, I know. But you still should have spoke the words. I was so afraid for those first few days, Geir. And so unsure. You could have help alleviate that.”

“Little mate, my apologies are sincere. Please know I never meant to frighten you. I only wanted you to be mine, and I wanted to go home. I wanted peace, and no more bloodshed, and I was stressed about getting home. I was maybe short sighted for all of that. I’m so sorry, my Amer.”

“I forgive you, Geir. I forgive you, but I needed you to know. I needed…”

“I understand, my sweet Amer. I understand, and I hear you. And I thank you, for your trust, your faith, and your forgiveness. May I kiss you, Amer? I wish very much to—“

“— Kiss me, please,” Amer whispered, his face finally twisting around so he could glance up at me rather than pressed against my chest. His face was blotchy and pale, covered in tears. 

I pressed my lips against his eyes, licking up his salty tears, before gently taking his lips in a sweet kiss. He kissed me back, just for a moment, before he pulled away and dug his face into my neck. 

“We will speak more of how I can earn your forgiveness for my lack of care, and the many other things I have obviously been neglecting. But for now, my beautiful mate, sleep. Sleep in my arms and know you are safe, and you will never again be alone against the forces of evil men. I will always be at your side to help you fight them.”


	28. Piercings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geir enjoys Amer’s piercings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat’s in heat this week, so I’m freaking exhausted since the brat won’t let me sleep without making it perfectly clear she disapproves of all the closed doors in my house. So ya. Not much to say this week but just enjoy :):)

AMER—

I didn’t even remember falling to sleep, but I woke with my entire body tense, straining, on the verge of orgasm. A wet, tight heat enclosed my cock, and I cried out as I stared down my body. I was covered in blankets, but a large, Geir-shaped bump in the blankets lay between my sprawled legs. 

I heard him chuckle, feeling the release of breath against my balls, before his finger was pushing and pulling against my cock ring, and a cavern of white-hot wetness was completely encasing my prick. 

When the tip of my cock hit the back of his throat and he swallowed, I was lost, screaming his name as my cum filled his mouth and my body curled around him. I grabbed at his head, or what I knew was his head, for he was still completely covered in the blankets, humping against his face as my release tore through me and left me a gasping, sobbing mess. 

How long had he been teasing my body while I slept? 

When I released his head and fell limp back against the bed, his wet lips rose up my body, pressing gentle little kisses along my thighs, belly, stopping momentarily to lick my belly ring, and then moving up until his head poked out of the blankets. 

His smile was raunchy at best as he nipped at my chin, and then his mouth was on mine, and I let his tongue press against my own. I tasted my release, bitter and salty, and he shared it with me with apparent glee. 

“Did that feel good, little mate?” he whispered against my lips, nipping at the bottom one with his teeth before licking a stripe up my face to my ear with his tongue. 

“Yes, Geir,” I answered, shivering as he dug his tongue into my ear while his hands grabbed mine and entwined our fingers on either side of my head, effectively pinning me down. “I’m sorry I… I grab you. I shouldn’t have— did I hurt you?”

Geir’s smirk was devilish as he pulled away from my ear to look into my eyes. “Any injuries I earn while pleasuring my sweet mate will be proudly worn, and likely shown off to any whom I can order to listen to me brag. Please, dear gods, never hold back your passion for fear of injuring me, sweet Amer.”

I thought back to the first time Geir had fucked me, when he had dragged me out afterwards and shown off the scratch marks down his back, and I felt the blush creep down my neck and onto my chest. 

He had seemed to be showing them off, proud of them. And now I feared a repeat of the same ridiculous actions. 

“As long Geir show them to other alone. I not be drag out naked in front of crowd again.”

“Ah,” he mumbled, meeting my eyes with understanding brewing in his own. “I had known I angered you… I’m sorry if I shamed you, Amer. The witnesses to our mating were necessary. But I promise, your body and pleasure are for my eyes and body alone, if that is what you wish… Forgive me?” 

His sincerity dripped with understanding, and I felt myself nodding as my face automatically sought his chest to hide in. 

“Forgiven,” I replied, and all but jerked off of the bed as he tugged on my left nipple. 

“There is one other thing I think needs to be addressed, now that you can understand my tongue, and won’t misunderstand my words. Now that we are officially mates, and I am no longer Warlord. And especially now that I know how I have caused you harm by not speaking of things outright.”

I peeked up and watched as Geir drew back, his hands cupping my nipples, so gently, before trailing down, spreading my legs so he could press against my perineum piercing. His fingers, though large and calloused, were gentle as he took the piercing between them and tugged just enough to draw a lighting bolt of pleasure inside my body. It felt as if he had dug a finger up against my prostate from inside. 

I gasped and my back arched as my eyes rolled back into my head with pleasure. My spent prick twitched and began to plump against my thigh. 

“Ravi has told me what your piercings mean,” he began, moving his fingers to my cock ring at the base of my penis. “This one signifies manhood.” He stretched up, licking my ears and tugged a few between his teeth while all I could do was try not to whimper. 

“These signify your wealth and status. And this one, my personal favorite,” he whispered, licking the corner of my open, panting mouth before he licked his way down to my belly button and flicked it with that wicked tongue. “This one tells potential partners you prefer men in your bed and in your heart over women.”

I was panting, half out of my mind with lust, and his eyes glinted, his own cock hard as fucking stone, as he made his way back down to my groin, spread my legs around his hips, and put his fingers around the piercing on my perineum again. 

“This one,” he pulled it again, and I all but screamed in pleasure as he chuckled. “Is the mark of a sex slave. And these pretty little things,” he grumbled erotically, his hands roving back up to my nipples. “Are the mark of a slave. This is correct, yes? Ravi was not mistaken?”

“No, Geir. You’re… you’re right. Please.”

“Amer, I have teased your body to distraction, but I do need you coherent, please. Because I have something very important to ask you.”

“Anything,” I breathed, and Geir’s rumble of pleasure was like a balm against my lust, calming me enough to meet his eyes.

“You are my mate, not my slave, and most assuredly not my sex slave. One word from you, and any of these piercings you don’t want, I will ensure are removed.”

My gasp was, perhaps, unwarranted. I had accepted my status as his mate rather than slave, had been coming to the truth for days, but for some reason I had never thought of removing the piercings. I had simply accepted them when Geir chose me as War Prize, as just another shame I had to bear for the safety of my people. One I thought would be the first in a line of many. 

Instead, I had been treated with honor and respect, affection and genuine care. And the only other shame I’d had to endure, had been a misunderstanding because witnesses were needed to prove Geir and I had mated. 

But now he was offering to remove the shameful piercings, the marks of my supposed slavery. The blows my father had dealt due to his hatred of me. And Geir would take them out for me, if I asked him. 

But there was something about the way he fingered each. Each time he touched me, he seemed fascinated by them, lingering on the nipple piercings as long as he would allow himself before moving on, seemingly afraid to hurt the new piercings— afraid to irritate them with his attention. 

I thought back to Abi’s words about getting her own nipples pierced, to please her mate, and I couldn’t help the smile that rose to my lips at her antics. But the idea was… intriguing. 

“Geir, you like them?” I asked him, trailing my fingers down his arm and up to my left nipple. I gently flicked the little diamond, my breath hitching as my nipple puckered with the physical stimulation. 

I drew my hand down, Geir’s eyes following my fingers like an eagle follows a mouse across a field before diving. I lifted my balls, fingering the perineum piercing and feeling somehow… powerful as Geir’s cock jerked against his belly at the move. He licked his lips, his breaths panting and short, his gaze fixed on my fingers as I pinched the piercing, my back arching as I pulled it out from my body before pushing it back. 

My own breath caught as his eyes finally came back up to meet mine. 

“Dear gods, yes. I love them,” he whispered almost hoarsely. “To your people they are a mark of shame, of slavery, but to mine… to me … dear gods, I want to play with them. I want to see if I can make you come with only my teeth, tongue, and those damn nipple piercings. I want to see how desperate I can make you with only tugging on that one beneath your balls. When I fuck into your hole, that one digs into my groin so sweetly.”

“When you fuck me,” I answered, playing along and feeling a thrill of excitement when Geir’s palms moved up to cup my nipples, his huge hands overlapping on my much smaller chest. “You body press that one, and it like shots of pleasure up prick.”

Geir groaned, digging his face against my chest and chuckling breathily. “Gods,” he whispered, “I will do whatever you want, little mate. It is your body, and I will not impose my will on it. But if my opinion counts for anything— please keep them?”

I laughed out loud at the almost pleading sound in his voice before nodding. I wanted nothing more than to dig my fingers through his thick, soft-looking hair. But I dared not. I was coming to know this man as I had never known another, I was choosing to see this as a new life, taking the steps to accepting it, and he was nothing like I had thought he was… but to touch him in that way, without his permission… I was still hesitant. 

“I keep them,” I answered, smiling when he pulled his head up and met my eyes. “If you like.”

His eyes darkening, he pulled himself up until he loomed over me and he stared into my eyes. 

“If they bring you shame, degrade you in any way, my wants are not to be—“

“— I do not mind them. They bring me no shame. They did, before, but… you change mind. Well, you and Abi. I like how it feel when you… play with them. I like they bring you pleasure. And they definitely bring me pleasure.” 

“Oh?” Geir chuckled, his hands sliding up to pinch my nipples. I cried out at the sudden pain/pleasure that shot down my spine and pooled in my groin. “Are they healed enough to play with yet?” 

“Mmm,” I moaned, my eyes closing of their own accord as he pinched and turned my nipples and seemed fascinated when my body twitched and jerked with each move he made. “Gentle. Should be fine. But gentle. No mouth, no… tongue. Only fingers.”

“Mmm, only fingers it is, then,” he whispered almost reverently as he began to pluck at each nipple in turn. “And little mate?”

“Hmm?” I answered, completely at a loss for words. But he wasn’t satisfied with that answer, for he pinched my right nipple hard enough my eyes shot open and I gaped down at his smirking mouth and flashing, dark eyes. 

“Thank you for keeping them. I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	29. Possessive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amer is adorable <3

GEIR—

Oh yes, I would ensure my mate only ever saw my little play toys whenever he looked at his piercings, and only ever associated them with pleasure— his and mine. He had agreed to keep them, to see them in another light than the way his people had put on them, and I was beyond pleased. I would make sure he never regretted that decision. And if he did, I would pull the little things out myself. 

But playing with them would have to wait— my experiments would have to be slow, take time, because with the little attention I had given to his pink nipples, they were swelling just a bit and sore-looking. They had only been done less than a week before, so I could wait until they were further healed before I truly learned how to pluck them until my mate came from that stimulation alone. 

It would be quite the sight. 

I was just about to move on, down his body to my favorite piercing that, although it was only in his belly button, still seemed to be an erogenous zone for him, when I was interrupted with a harsh knock against the outer door. 

“Fucking hell,” I cursed, as Amer immediately tensed up and glanced around, as if afraid someone was already in the room. “I forgot I ordered a bath. Come. Up. Bathe with me, little mate.”

“Please, Geir,” he whispered as I pulled him up. He covered his softening prick with his small hands, curling around himself. Where before he had begun to come out of his shell, had begun to even tease me, flirt with me, he was now retreating again. “I don’t… I don’t like people to see me naked. Especially not your bed, naked, mussed…”

“You don’t like others to know we’ve been mating? They know we have, little mate— it is our mating week. We have 7 days to ourselves, to pleasure each other, learn of each other, and rest. So why does it bother you that they see the proof?”

“Oh gods,” he whispered with horror. “Mating week? I don’t...” He seemed to shake himself before continuing. “I don’t know why, Geir. It just is embarrassing.” 

“Fine, little mate. Here.” I pulled one of the furs out from beneath him and covered him in it. I shook my head at the absurdity that this would help at all— everyone who saw his burning red cheeks, the bits of cum that had dried on his face from my wet kiss after he came down my throat, and even the mussed bed around him would know what we had been doing when they knocked. Not to mention, as I had told him, it was our mating week. We were practically sequestered together for the week. But the modesty the fur provided seemed to calm him a bit, so I shrugged and went to the door. 

“Thank you!” he called after me, and I chuckled as I let Amanda, Chloe, and Arysmic into the room. They were the wives of two of the farmers of the back field, and I was grateful my people had thought to send women. Not only would I have been on edge if men had brought in the water buckets, but I knew Amer would be calmer with women. 

“Thank you,” I said as they brought their buckets over to the tub and filled it. They each nodded as they passed Amer, and he squeaked but made no move to stand from the bed or take the fur from around his head and body. 

Dear gods, he had pulled it up around his head, so it looked like a hood and cape. My laughter was met with a glare from my mate, his eyes glowing and piercing me from within the shadow of the makeshift hood. 

Amanda lit the fire beneath the tub, before they left to bring more water. I sat next to Amer on the bed as we waited for them to return with more water, and I was immediately accosted with the fur being thrown around my shoulder. 

I looked over at my mate, my eyebrows raised in question, but all I could see of him were his bright red ears and the blush that extended down his neck and a little onto his bare shoulders. 

“They shouldn’t see you … You’re my mate. Not theirs,” he whispered, almost petulantly. The words were barely spoken aloud, but I heard them. And understood. 

He didn’t like others seeing my naked body. 

He was jealous. Possessive. 

It took every ounce of self control I possessed not to slam my mate to the furs and prove to him how very much I loved his possessiveness. How very welcome his claim on me was. But I held back, because I knew my own claim, with people coming in and out of the room, would be unwelcome. My mate was shy, and I knew how much it bothered him when he was embarrassed in front of others. 

“You please me much, little mate,” I whispered instead, and his blush darkening down his neck was the only indication I got that he had heard me. 

When Chloe, Amanda, and Arysmic were done, they left without a word. I dragged my mate to his feet, shoving the fur from our bodies, and tugged him to the tub. He bathed yesterday before the banquet, but I didn’t. I smelled of horse and campfires and sweat. And of Amer’s spend. But that last was a proud scent. One I reveled in, and wished I didn’t have to wash away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3<3


	30. A Warlord’s Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy bath time ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been working on the sequel to the Warlord’s Chosen for a while and it’s not too terrible if I do say so myself... just FYI :):)

AMER

Geir sank his body into the warm water of the tub, gesturing for me to follow him. I sat facing him, our legs meeting at the knee, and he rolled his eyes that I had sat as far from him as I could, but left me be. 

He reached out and pulled one of the small hand towels into the tub, wetting it before pouring a bit of soap from one of the bottles on a table beside the tub. The table stood at about our heads as we sat in the tub, and was covered in oils, perfumes, and soaps. 

Without pausing to second guess my actions, because I knew if I did I wouldn’t have the courage to follow through, I pulled myself up to kneel between Geir’s legs. He looked up at my movement, his eyes meeting mine and his brows rising in question. 

“I want… May I?” I asked, gesturing to the soapy towel in his hands. His eyes never left mine as he held the towel out, and I took it from him.

I leaned forward, pressing the towel to his chest, and began pressing down, rubbing over his pectorals and up to his neck. 

As if yanking himself from a stupor, Geir pulled the towel from my hands and threw it out of the tub. Before I could even react, my hands were coated in soap, and he was setting the bottle back on the little table. 

He wanted me to use my bare hands to clean him. 

It felt as if my skin grew tight, my balls drawing up against me as my cock throbbed. 

“May I… may I touch you?” 

Despite everything, I was still unsure. Unsure of why Geir seemed so smitten with me, unsure of how he would react if I did the things I wanted to do. Unsure of how to tell him how desperately I wanted his body pressing me down again. And again. And again. 

“We are mates,” he replied in a voice gruff with arousal. “My body is yours, just as yours is mine. Touch me however you will, whenever it pleases you. Only,” he continued, his voice growing serious, deep and growling. “Never strike me in anger, for it would be an unfair fight.” 

“I’m not weak,” I all but shouted in annoyance, my fingers curling into claws against his chest. 

“An unfair fight in your favor, little mate. For I am wholly smitten with you, and I would be incapable of returning your spite.”

I swallowed and tried to tear myself from his gaze, his words digging themselves into my soul as his coal-bright eyes kept me hypnotized. But I was completely incapable of movement, breath, or thought for what felt an entire day. An impossible length of time. 

My hands began to move, almost of their own accord, rubbing up across his chest, down each arm. I was finally able to turn my eyes down to watch as my fingers mapped out his body. As he had done with his massage the first night we spent together, I now returned the favor and learned, studied, each inch of him. 

When I reached his cock and balls, a thrill shot through me that they were hard and tight. He grunted when I rubbed soapy fingers around his balls, focusing for a moment on the small, sensitive pucker of his hole before stroking my hand up and down his cock a few times before moving down his legs. 

I could see his hands, fisting the sides of the tub, turn white with the effort of holding himself back. And the sight brought a smile unbidden to my mouth. 

“You see what you do to me, Amer? Do you see how you test my control? Your sensual body and naive touches are like a fucking drug.”

“I’ve never… I feel... powerful,” I admitted, as I pulled his foot up and gently coaxed soap around his toes, rubbing at his heel and letting it sink down before pulling the other up and repeating the actions. 

“You are powerful, mate. You hold an Akaran Warlord’s heart in those small hands.”

“.... I hold your heart?”

“You have my everything, Amer.”

I closed my eyes, my entire body trembling as tears slipped down my cheeks. 

“And you have mine, Geir.”


	31. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ⁄ ⁄ ⁄ ⁄ ω ⁄ ⁄ ⁄ ⁄

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of update last week— I’ve been sick. Enjoy :):)

Geir—

When Amer had finished cleaning my body, his hesitant touches and inexperienced seduction the most stunning thing I had ever witnessed, he pulled away for a moment. He wiped himself down perfunctorily before leaning forward and pulling my cock into his hand. My entire body tensed, and my eyes met his, my shock momentarily taking my tongue. 

“You said I could… could touch you? I want…” He looked down, watching as his hand stroked my cock underneath the water. I fought the overwhelming urge to fuck up into the tight fist he had grasping my manhood, instead keeping myself as still as I could. His exploratory seductions were _enjoyable_ , to say the least.

“I am yours to do with as you please,” I replied when I was able to speak again. “What do you want me to do, little mate?”

“Can you sit up, out of water? I want put my mouth… my mouth on you?” 

I don’t think I’ve ever moved as fast as I did in that moment, to sit up on the seat of the tub, out of the water. Waves of water splashed out of the tub, and Amer laughed at my excitement, his face flaming with his embarrassment. But his prick was hard, and he eyed me with excitement and lust. 

“I’ve never… I’ll try be good for you,” he whispered as he knee-walked to my legs and spread my knees so he could move between them. 

“Dear gods,” I murmured hoarsely, trying so hard to keep my hands on the rim of the tub. I didn’t want to rush him, or scare him with the intensity of how much I wanted his skin, his lips, his tongue, gods, any part of him, on me. “You couldn’t do wrong, my mate. Just… just touch me, please. You’re going to drive me mad with your little touches and teasing. Touch me. Please. Put my cock in your fucking—“ 

I all but choked on my own tongue as he licked a stripe up my cock. He paused at the tip, adjusting his grip on the base, before kitten licking the slit. He pulled back as a small drop of precum beaded from the slit. He looked up at me, his eyes dark with heat, before leaning forward and, his eyes never leaving mine, dipped his tongue against the slit and swallowing the drop of precum. 

“Fuck,” I hissed, bucking up involuntarily. At this rate, with his touches light, hesitant, inexperienced, I’d never come, but I was enjoying the ride and the view along the way. 

His tongue was back on my cock, and I braved a hand forward to gently brush my fingers through his hair. He didn’t even pause as I brushed his hair back from his face, so I could watch him. 

I enjoyed his teasing, almost taunting ministrations, for what must have been 10 minutes or more before I was unable to hold back anymore. 

“Little mate, open your mouth and put the head of my cock inside. Keep your teeth away, there like that.” I moaned, digging my fingers into his scalp to hold him still against me. “Now, take as much as you can into your mouth, alright? Don’t… ugh, don’t choke or gag, but just as far as you can… yes, just like that. Then out, and back in, yes, fuck, Amer.” 

I panted, and my orgasm began to build even higher when I felt Amer’s fingers gently begin to fondle and stroke my balls. 

“Yes, good, so good, just like that,” I chanted, my hips thrusting slightly of their own accord. “I’m going to pull back, Amer, and come on your face, ok? Can I mark your pretty face, little mate?”

He hummed his ascent just as my cock hit the back of his throat and he gagged, and my orgasm peaked. I cried out, yanking myself from his mouth, and stroked myself through my orgasm as my cum splattered across Amer’s lips, his cheek, and then a few weak spurts trickled down to hit his neck. 

I slumped back, reaching down to rub my cum into Amer’s skin. Wanting to mark him as my own, to completely fucking _cover_ him in my scent, my spend. 

I scooped up a glob that had landed on his neck, raising it to his mouth. I held it in front of him, giving him the choice. He looked up at me, then my fingers, before tentatively licking my fingers. He made a face at the taste, and I chuckled, but he swallowed it. And I wanted to wrap him up and cry out my pride that he was mine. 

“Don’t worry, little mate,” I joked. He looked up at me, and I chuckled as he began to rub at the cum I had rubbed into his skin. “You’ll improve with time and practice. Lots and lots of practice.”

My laughter drowned out his annoyed huff and, rolling his eyes, he stood from the tub and stepped away.


	32. Retribution is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at updating. I know. Sorry ⁄ ⁄ ⁄ ⁄ ω ⁄ ⁄ ⁄ ⁄

AMER—

Geir’s groans, grunts, and heavy pants had been like music to my ears the entire time he had been in my mouth. And when he had finally taken control, it had sent a thrill of lust through my entire body to hear him command me in what to do. 

I bent down to retrieve the towel he had thrown out of the tub earlier, using it to wipe his spend from my face, before leaving him in the bath. His comment about me getting better at pleasuring him made me excited, hot, and embarrassed at the same time. 

Just as I reached the doorway between the bathing room and the bedroom, I yelped as I was lifted off my feet and up into Geir’s arms. 

“W-w-wh-What are you doing!?” 

Geir’s laugh was the only answer I got before I was thrown onto his bed, laughing despite myself. His warm body engulfed mine, and before I could take a breath, his mouth was on mine. His tongue probing my mouth, seeking, tasting, savoring. And then I was lost to his taste, his touch, and the way he made me scream. 

————————————————————

The next few days went by in a blur of warmth, bliss, passion, hot baths, and long nights and days of lovemaking that left me sore and sated, and yet wanting more. Geir studied my body like it was a test he would have to pass, and dear gods, he passed with flying colors. 

We were brought our meals, but otherwise left alone to our own pleasures. When we lay wrapped in each other’s arms, sore, sated, sweating, our breaths mingling as they calmed, we spoke of our lives. Our passions, hopes, dreams. 

Geir told me of his family, taking the Chief mantle from his father soon. He told me of giving up on finding a mate to spend his life with, and how he had feared he would spend his life alone, with only his siblings and their children bringing him joy. 

He told me of the many mischiefs he got into as a child, and I told him of how opposite my upbringing had been. I told him of Chef Dew, Hestiel, and my dear Mem. I told him of my father, how he blamed me for something I never could have had control over. 

When I told him the reason for my father’s hatred, my own bitterness welled up, along with Geir’s disbelief and disgust. 

“You were a child,” Geir growled, the deep vibrations tickling my ear and cheek. I pulled up, meeting his eyes, and shrugged. “Even if it was true, how could he blame you?”

“He love my mother. Much. Their love still spoke of in Veil, in whispers. That he changed after he meet her. And then change again when she die. But she wild, free spirit. And my father… unchanging. Stubborn. So the idea that she stray, even only one night, and was careless about it? It wasn’t so strange idea. My father convinced I couldn’t be his. I too small, too weak, couldn’t fight, had no desire to learn to draw blood, cause pain… He and me had nothing in common, and that blindingly apparent from a very young age.

“So when you came… when you chose me?” I paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before continuing. Geir had expressed confusion about why my father had treated me the way he had— almost gelding me, having me humiliated, treated like a slave. I wouldn’t hold back, no matter how much it might hurt him. “My father always want a way to get rid of me. You give him one.” 

Geir was silent for a few minutes before his arms tightened around me. “How many more things will I discover the need to apologize to you for, little mate?”

I chuckled and nipped at his nipple, just beneath my cheek. “That’s not why I tell you. You ask why he hate me, why he do what he did. That’s why. I was the reminder that his wife was more than he could handle. You were our enemy— you could not have known.”

“Well you have a choice, you know. Now that I’m no longer Warlord, I’d love nothing more than to return and show him how he erred in harming my mate. In hurting you for so many years. Retribution is yours, little mate, if you but ask for it.”

I huffed out a steady breath. Even a week before, I would have been taken aback by his words. Now I knew his sincerity, and his desire to protect and take care of me. 

“If you were to do anything, it would be seen as act of war. You may not be Warlord any longer, but my people don’t understand that. We don’t see that way. No, Geir,” I whispered, digging my face under his arm and taking a deep breath of his scent. I couldn’t get enough of it. “I want no further bloodshed. I want peace, I want you, I want my life entwined with yours. I want the past in the past.”

“What about your sisters?” he said, so softly I wouldn’t have heard him if I couldn’t feel the words vibrating against my ear, pressed so tightly against his chest. 

I paused, knowing what I wanted to say, but unsure how to phrase my words. 

Geir’s chest below me shook as he chuckled. “Speak, little mate. I can hear the words in your mind. Fear not, just tell me what you want to.”

“I want to write them letter. They worried about me. They still think I… I worry about them too. May I…?”

Geir pulled up, meeting my eyes with a gentle smile. His lips met mine for just a breath before he pressed his forehead to mine. 

“There are parchment and quills out in the front room. Write your letter, little mate. I’ll make sure your sisters receive it as soon as a runner can reach them.”


	33. You’re His Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3 I’ve basically given up on chapter summaries lol. Too much work. Just enjoy ;)

Geir—

Amer’s letter to his siblings was short and to the point. He wrote he was happy, they had been deceived as to his role at my side, and he would like to see them soon. Either we would go to them, or they could come to us. Or there were plenty of places we could meet them in between. My mate was ecstatic when I agreed to this, but truly I was eager to meet the strong women he spoke of with such affection. 

And they were my family now too, as much as I resented have two _more_ sisters to add to the ones I already had. 

It turned out, though, we sent the letter just a bit too late. I sent Amer’s letter in Ret’s hands— he was the fastest on horseback in my tribe— in the early hours of the morning. And woke the next morning, before the sun had lightened the sky to even a slight gray, with a sword at my throat and Amer’s sobbing cries in my ears. 

I was unable to move, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, as the blade dug into my flesh. I could feel a drop of hot blood pool in my clavicle. 

Using all my senses due to my lack of sight, I could tell there were 3 men and a woman in the room with me and my mate. The woman and another man held my mate back, one held the sword tight to my throat, while the third man guarded the door. I could sense more— these four were not alone. And I cursed when I thought of how open I had left us. 

My mate and I were alone, completely, for our mating week. The closest to hear us call for aid were the farmers, who lived on the other side of the lake. Even the few housemaids I kept who lived in the nearby cottage had gone to visit kin during our mating week to give us privacy. 

I hadn’t thought we would need to prepare for an attack, with how thoroughly we had defeated the El’kahrians. I had been wrong. And now my mistake would cost me and possibly my mate our lives. 

“Hestiel!” Amer yelled, his voice desperate, clawing. I wanted to go to him, calm him, but all I could do was glare up at the man who held me down with just the tip of his blade. 

I was tall, even in Akar, but this man might actually have a few inches on me. His skin was not Akaran dark, but it was heavily tanned by the sun, as if he never spent even a moment out of the sun. His dark blonde hair was tied back from his harsh, chiseled face in a braid.

Rather than his size, it was his eyes that caught and held my own. They were pale, warm blue. And somehow I sensed that, despite the blade at my throat, the man wasn’t violent. I sensed a deep warmth that made me want to huff in amusement. Of course I would sense the kindness in a man who had his sword at my throat. 

“Hestiel!” Amer yelled again, followed by a few guttural words in El’kahrian, then the sounds of a scuffle. Without warning, the man with the sword was gone. Replaced by Amer, who all but knocked the breath from my lungs as he jumped atop me. 

I grunted, but quickly lifted myself, grabbing Amer’s naked body to push him back behind me. I assessed the room around me quickly, knowing I was outnumbered and outmaneuvered. The men around me were each weighted down by various swords, bows, knives, and armor. And I was naked but for the thin fur blanket that covered my groin and legs. 

But it was the sight of the woman that had me glowering. She stood beside one of the men— stout, but short, with his hand on his sword, though the weapon wasn’t drawn. And she stared down at Amer as if he had just slapped her across the face. 

I hadn’t heard a slap, but I didn’t think my mate would hurt his sister anyway. 

“Hestiel,” I muttered in recognition, just as I also recognized the man at the door. The man who had almost battled against armed soldiers that had conquered his kingdom when I had first chosen Amer as my Warprize. The one Amer had since told me was called Dew. 

“You don’t address me, barbarian,” Hestiel all but growled at me in heavily accented Akari. “Let my brother go. He will no longer suffer for the sins of our father.”

I almost rolled my eyes, but Amer put his hand on my arm and I kept quiet and let him speak for himself. 

“Hestiel, you don’t understand,” he replied, also in Akari. “I’m not… nothing Father said was true. Everything a lie. I’m… I’m happy now. I want be here. Please.”

“Father is dead,” she said callously, and for a moment, I could see a scared little girl who wanted her brother by her side. Then her lips stiffened as she drew herself up. “You must return. You’re his only heir.”

I gasped, a flash of insight knocking the breath from my lungs at the way the words poured so easily from her mouth. And with Amer’s stiffening body and suddenly quick breaths, I knew he had the same quick flash of knowing, of intuition. I barely knew the woman, but I could say with easy assurance that she had, in some way, killed her father. 

“Hestiel,” Amer whispered, and I could feel his hot breaths against my neck as he dug his face against my skin. Amer’s sister exchanged a glance with the huge El’kahrian, who motioned for the other man to leave the room, then he stayed, his sword pointed solidly at the floor, and Dew kept his stance by the door. 

“I had to,” she whispered, her eyes moving from me to Amer and back again. “So now you understand, Warlord. We need our King back. We’re prepared to suitably compensate you for your lost slave—“

“— Amer is _mine_ ,” I growled, my hands clenched into fists as I kept myself from leaping up and defending my mate. 

“You’ll take monetary compensation, or we’ll leave with your head strapped to my saddle, Warlord!” Hestiel hissed. Amer whimpered and drew himself up. 

“You won’t hurt him!” he yelled, his hands clutching around me to link at my chest. “I love him! You don’t understand, Hestiel! He’s my… we mated! We’re… _married_ ,” he finished in El’kahrian, since the Akari word for marriage was _mate_ , and just as Amer had, his sister might not understand. “I was never meant to be slave. That was only Father’s cruelty. I was always meant to be loved. Cherished. And I have been, Hestiel. So much.”

Hestiel looked as if she wanted to slit my throat and vomit on the floor at the same time. 

“You’re his slave, Amer! Not his lover!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 more chapters!!!!!!!!!


	34. This One’s Worth Fighting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3<3

AMER—

When I woke to Hestiel’s hands on my mouth, keeping me quiet while she yanked me out of the bed, naked and covered in dried cum— my own and Geir’s— it took everything in me not to scream. I stared up at her, meeting her eyes as well as I could in the darkness of the room. 

And then I noticed the other men in the room— two I didn’t recognize, and Dew— the swords, armor, battle gear. 

Then I screamed. 

Geir woke with one of the men— a huge man I would have mistaken for Akaran if he wasn’t so light skinned— at his side, his sword digging into his neck. 

“Hestiel!” I all but screamed, fighting her hold on me, uncaring I was naked as the day I was born, covered in the proof of my and Geir’s days of lovemaking, and hair mussed from sex and sleep. “Don’t! Don’t hurt him! Please dear gods, don’t hurt him!” 

I violently yanked out of Hestiel’s arms, throwing myself on Geir, who immediately shoved me behind him. Protecting me, even when I was in far less danger than he. 

When I told Hestiel of my feelings for Geir, her reaction was almost violent. 

“You’re his slave, Amer! Not his lover!” she all but screamed, her face red as she took a few steps torwards us. 

My next words I spoke in El’kahrian, so Hestiel would be sure to understand. “I would choose slavery over freedom until eternity comes, if it means being by his side.” Both Dew and the other man raised their brows, probably only understanding now that I was speaking El’kahrian. “I love him, Hestiel. And I… Gods help me, he loves me too. I’m not his slave, Hestiel. I have many things to tell you, of our father’s cruelty in making us believe the Akarans were demanding a sacrifice, of all the ways our people were wrong about theirs. But make no mistake— I am a free man in this land, just as I was in ours. More so. I can love my man the way I never could in El’kahr. Freely. Without judgement. As you can love any man you choose. And I choose to stay.”

Hestiel took a step back and met my eyes with thinly veiled disguise. 

“Amer is my mate,” Geir said sternly when I had been quiet for a few moments. He shook his head as he grabbed one of my hands in my own. “Not my slave. He’s my Warprize, my life, my lover. My husband,” he finished in El’kahrian. 

Now that I had I possibly managed to convince Hestiel of the truthfulness of my and Geir’s mutual, loving relationship, so different from how she must have been envisioning these past weeks, and she was left to stare, her breaths heavy, Dew finally cut in. He hadn’t understood a word we’d said, since most of our conversation was in Akari. 

Of which I wasn’t aware Hestiel spoke. 

But she had always been secretive about strange things, I supposed. 

I explained all we had said to Dew, who replied with a raunchy joke about how ravaged I looked. 

“It’s exactly something your Father would’ve done— just to fuck with your head,” he growled low. I nodded, and then almost fell of the bed when Hestiel apologized to Geir. She did it so quickly I knew something was still wrong. My sister was proud. 

I had never heard her apologize in my life. 

“I apologize, Warlord. Our Father has obviously done more damage than I even knew,” she said in Akari.

“Your apologies are unnecessary, sister of my mate. Your actions show your bravery and loyalty. I am proud to call you kin.”

“But none of this changes anything,” she continued in Akari as if he hadn’t replied, and I knew this was what she’d been holding back with her apology. 

“You’re our Father’s only heir. You must return, to take the throne—“

I cut in, shaking my head and clutching at Geir. I would let El’kahr crumble to the ground before I’d leave his side. And that knowledge was sudden and brutal in its absolute truth. 

“— Hestiel, I’d make a terrible king. We always knew it— knew it was meant to be you. I never wanted it, now even less so. And a king pining after his lost barbarian love would be an even more terrible choice.”

“If he loves you as you say he does, he’ll uproot his life, as you did yours.”

“We could never be together in El’kahr. He’d be a concubine at best, and I’d have to marry to produce heirs. It would be hell for both of us. I won’t… I can’t do that. Not even for you, dear Hestiel. I’m happy here. So happy. I won’t give up my new life like I did my old. Because this one’s worth fighting for.”


	35. To Be King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****Last chapter, ya'll, then an epilogue. I really need to finish up The Monster's Heir, then I'll start uploading that. Hopefully I can get that finished up this weekend so I can start uploading it next Friday or the Monday after... We'll see! *****

AMER—

Hestiel had brought a contingent of only 20 men. They had snuck through the lands of Akar with their small numbers, and tracked me down with the help of the huge, blonde man Hestiel introduced to me as Sage. He had been a soldier under the previous general and had lived on the Akaran border most of his life, so he spoke passable Akari and knew their customs like I didn’t even yet. He was gentle, quiet, and was one of the only men my sister trusted with the knowledge of what she had done. 

My suspicions that she had ended my Father’s life were confirmed from her own mouth. After Geir and I had bathed, dressed, and assured each other, with tongues and teeth, gasping words and hot breaths, that we were both alright, if a bit shaken up by what had happened, we joined Hestiel and a few of her men in the dining area I hadn’t even seen yet. I’d spent the last few days… occupied. I hadn’t even had a chance to explore my new home yet. 

We sat around the large table, in the wooden chairs spread around it. Dew worked diligently at the hearth, putting together breakfast with a whistle on his tongue.

“He signed a marriage contract with Butcger for Mem’s hand,” Hestiel said simply, and my gasp alerted Geir enough that, despite Hestiel speaking in El’kahrian, he grabbed me and pulled me into his lap, as if he understood her words. “I've been planning to do it for… gods, for years. But that… you made me promise. Promise I wouldn’t allow him to do to Mem what he did to you. He finally pushed my hand, though we all know I should have done it years ago.”

I translated what she said to Geir, who frowned, his brows furrowed, as he looked around at the men around us. The others had left, after being introduced to Geir. Some were my friends, men I had know my whole life, and it was good to see they had stayed loyal to our friendship enough to come rescue me from a fate they thought I was suffering. Being able to reassure them myself had been needed, as some still looked disbelieving until Geir hugged me from behind. They must have seen something then, for they finally acquiesced and left to set up camp outside Geir’s… _our_ home.

The only remaining men were Dew and Sage. Hestiel noticed Geir’s look and smiled tightly. In Akari, she said, “They know. They’re the only ones who do. Dew has been a father to me and my siblings our whole life. And Sage… well, I trust him with my life. Let’s leave it at that.”

I raised my eyebrows and looked pointedly from Hestiel to Sage and back again. They exchanged a look before Sage burst out laughing at the heady blush that rose to Hestiel’s face. 

“Your sister’s virtue is safe from me,” Sage laughed, his voice grumbly and deep. He reached down and lifted his shirt and tunic— just enough to show me the piercing on his belly, matching my own. 

With the move, Geir’s arm around me tightened and he growled throatily up at the man. 

“Ah, I see the warlord knows what that means,” Sage laughed, shaking his head and letting his shirt drop down around his breeches. He continued in broken Akari, “Calm, big guy, I not steal you mate.”

I laughed, blushing at Geir’s reaction and Sage’s words. 

“Did he…” I paused, unsure how to voice the question I wanted to ask. But Hestiel knew me well, for her eyes softened and she shook her head. 

“You’re far too gentle to be king,” she began in Akari, shaking her head and reaching out to hold my hand. “I knew this the moment I first held you in my arms when you were a babe. But I will not lie to you,” she finished, her eyes hardening. “Our father suffered in his death. I made sure he felt it, ever excruciating moment. For everything he made us suffer, our people suffer, our neighbors suffer. I made him _feel it_.”

I would never know if the tears that fell down my cheeks at those words were relief or grief. But Geir’s arms around me, his heat at my back, comforted me until the tears dried and I was able to listen back in on the conversation between Geir and Hestiel. 

“If I’m to return and take the throne, I’ll have to remove many, if not all, of the current councilors. They’ve made it perfectly clear I’m not a suitable candidate for the throne.”

“I can help with that,” Geir said, relaxing back against his seat. I leaned back, warm and safe in his arms. “You’re my mate’s sister, so you are kin. If you’re in danger, I can gather men to send with you. Even more if you can wait until I message the Tribal Chiefs. I’m sure they’d be ecstatic to help the sister of my Warprize onto the throne. It would ensure a lasting peace with El’kahr. Possibly for generations to come.”

Hestiel seemed taken aback, but she quickly rallied, nodding regally. 

Geir continued with a clenched fist against my stomach. “Especially if one of these councilors is this Butcger. I know at least one Tribal Chief who would gladly send as many warriors as you need to aid in bringing that monster to justice.”

I met Geir’s eyes, nodding as I remembered the conversation with Sriny’ete and his mate. I was sure Jacob would send as many men as he could, if it meant Butcger would face justice for his crimes against children, against his mate. 

“I’d love to be part of that, your highness,” Sage spoke up from beside Hestiel. He seemed to be following our conversation in Akari, but he spoke in El’kahrian. I translated for Geir as he spoke. “It would be my pleasure to lead a contingent of men on Butcger’s castle.”

Hestiel nodded, then turned back to Geir. “Your help would be appreciated,” she said, inclining her head. “But we shouldn’t need too many men. Most in Veil will support my claim to the throne, and those who don’t are few and weak. As long as I have Amer’s backing, I should be able to cut down any who want him as their king rather than me.”


	36. Epilogue: All the Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE I DIDN’T UPLOAD THE EPILOGUE OMG I’M SO SORRY

AMER—

I sighed as I looked out the front entrance of my home, on the storm brewing to the south. It was almost a portent of doom, what with the news we awaited. Geir was currently out in the front yard, doing something I didn’t understand with the horses and the garden. He would come in soaked, cold, and I would be waiting with a warm bath and open arms. 

How very much my life had changed in so short a time. 

Hestiel had stayed with me and Geir only long enough to gather the men she would need to back her if the councillors refused her claim to the throne. From her letters updating us since she left over a month ago, only the expected handful of councillors who had been loyal to our father had refused to back her claim. And those had been deposed easily, and would have been anyways. Anyone who had been by my father’s side during his rule wouldn’t be an appropriate councilor for Hestiel’s rule. 

In each letter, Hestiel wrote of Mem, promising that once everything had settled, both she and Mem would visit me in my new home. I marked down the days, wanting nothing more than to see my dear Mem, assure her she was protected by the fiercest woman I’d ever known, and that I would always be here for her if she needed. She sent me a few letters as well, along with Hestiel’s, but Mem had never been one to sit still long enough to record her thoughts, so they were short and few. 

The last letter we had received told of both Sage and the Tribal Chief Ember arresting Butcger. While Hestiel had still been staying in one of the many rooms in our home, Geir had sent for both Chief Jacob and Chief Ember. I had met Ember during our mating night celebration— he was one of the few Chiefs who had voted against me as Warprize— but it had been for only a few seconds before Geir had hurried me on to the next Chief. And the moment I met the man again, I understood Geir wanting to keep me away from him.

If I had to pick one word to describe the lean, heavily muscled man, it would be _intense_. As Geir explained to both he and Jacob that my sister was going to be arresting and trying Butcger for his crimes, of which he should have been tried many years ago, Ember’s eyes never left mine. He watched me as if I was something disgusting he couldn’t understand the purpose of. 

I dug myself further into Geir’s side, and he growled at the other man, forcing him back. 

“Amer is my mate. You will respect him, Ember. I called you as a courtesy, because I knew you would want to be a part of this. But if you don’t want to show my home and family the respect we deserve, I— “

“—I very much want to be a part of taking down the Monster,” Ember growled, his eyes finally moving up to Geir rather than fixed so steadily on mine. “My apologies. What is the plan?”

Ember continued to glare, at Geir, at Jacob, at the wall even, but at least his ire was no longer directed at me. Gods, I felt almost sorry for Sage, whom Ember would be joining at Butcger’s castle. The poor, gentle giant would have his hands full with the fiery, angry Akaran.

I could only pray they alone wouldn’t be the cause of another war. 

They spoke of sending as many warriors as they could, some of Jacob’s, some of Ember’s, to assist Sage, who, by Hestiel’s last letter, was already stationed at the castle gates. Ember and Sage would be equal captains, something Ember grunted and rolled his eyes to, but any children found would be taken care of in Akar.

“They’ll likely be Akaran anyways,” Ember all but growled. Both Geir and Jacob nodded in acquiescence, their eyes dark with anger and pain at their countrymen’s suffering in slavery. I lowered my eyes in shame, for I couldn’t dispute his words. I didn’t want to, if I could. 

I had spent my time after our Mating Week trying to find my place in my new life. But once Geir discovered my love of the written word, that was the end of my search. He tore apart his own study, put in shelves that spanned each of the walls, and a small desk beside his own. Word spread about my love of reading, and we were soon bombarded by novels, scrolls, and tomes from around the country, sent as presents to Geir’s War Prize. The finishing touch was when he gathered together at least a dozen cushions made for me by women in his village and set them up on a little bench beside the window. 

“Amer’s reading nook,” he called it. And many days I spent, my nose dug into some tome or another, surrounded by those gorgeous cushions and pillows, while Geir either worked outside within view of my window, or at his desk a few feet from me. My favorite times were when we sat in silence, the large fireplace cackling, Geir hard at work, and me watching the flames dancing along his honey skin. 

It was almost three weeks after I had come to live with Geir that I first got up from my reading to take a look at the books and parchments that I knew Geir hated so much. After a bit of reading, I could see they were the accounts for his home, the farm, and basically the numbers for the estate. There were also letters of correspondence from various Tribal Chiefs, telling of their records and updating him on where they were at after the war. I spent the rest of the day organizing the papers, fixing the ones where the calculations were wrong, and setting them right. Then I answered a few of the letters, giving advice on crop failures, sicknesses in herds, and things of that nature. I left those aside for Geir to proofread my Akari and maybe move them into his own handwriting. 

Then I spent the night being “thanked” by Geir, who came in from his toiling outside, expecting to have to work on the dreaded paperwork, only to find it all complete. I stood beside the desk, suddenly unsure if I had overstepped what I was allowed, only to have him stare dumbfounded at the organized desk he had left a mess the night before. 

He scooped me up onto the desk before falling to his knees before it, made me cum faster than than I ever had before, then he dragged me back to our bedchambers and we barely slept a wink that night. 

His gratitude amused me, especially since I actually enjoyed taking care of the accounts, the daily goings-on of the village, the tribe, and the estate, and he laughed when I told him that. 

“Little mate, it’s all yours. I leave all that confusing nonsense in your hands, and I’ll be the brawn to your brains.”

It seemed Geir’s mother had been correct. While I was helpless when it came to helping Geir hunt, or tend the fields, or even train the horses, I had found my place among the figures and calculations I’d always loved. And although I had at first thought Geir would keep it to the two of us that it was I who was responding to the Tribal Chiefs and various others who sought out Geir’s advice and opinions, he didn’t seem to have any qualms letting anyone who would listen know I had taken over the management of his affairs. 

Soon, the letters asking for advice came addressed to me and Geir jointly, some only to me, and I gained quite a reputation. I sought out scrolls and books on the tending of crops, husbandry, various farming techniques, and soon I was able to tell Tribal Chief Jacob that his tomatoes had a blight, and how to cure them so they would be safe to eat. I was able to help Geir with a stubborn mare they had bought from an abusive trader, because I had read about abuse trauma in animals. 

I had never been happier. Not only for the love of my husband and mate and the times we shared, but because I was spending my life doing what I loved, and I was being appreciated and applauded for it. Geir acted as if I hung the moon each time a Chief came to visit and praised the advice I’d given them. Each time I gave him a summary of the monthly accounts to look over, or suggested a new way of doing something, he got that look on his face. The one I was beginning to crave. As if I had just told him I had made the sun rise again. 

Warm, strong arms wrapping around me from behind startled me out of my revelries, and I smiled up at Geir, who bent almost in half to press a gentle kiss to my lips. 

“You’re soaking wet,” I grumbled, squirming in his iron-hard grip and laughing when he refused to let me go. “And freezing!”

“All the better to take a long, warm bath with my mate,” he whispered against my lips, before I was lifted up and into his arms. My chest clenched as he smiled down at me, and I returned the smile. 

“All the better,” I agreed as he lowered his mouth to mine.


End file.
